Spring Mistakening?
by Pernicia
Summary: Melchi plots to overthrow Broadway. Wendla hogs the spotlight. Moritz freaks over being famous. The Part I Know Well, Opening Night, I Don't Do Smash Hits- yep, it's opening night again. A Forbidden Broadway style parody of the lyrics and script of SA!
1. Mama, You're Sure Mean

**Disclaimer: **Only the parodied lyrics are mine.

**Notes:** I've had this idea for a long time, ever since I randomly started changing the words to "Mama Who Bore Me." And then I tried "The Dark I Know Well," and it just all sank into place after that. So, basically, the characters of _Spring Awakening_ are putting on _Spring Awakening_ on Broadway. Or actors that act just like the characters. Hilarity ensues. If anyone listens to "Forbidden Broadway," I'm modeling it after that, only I'm also parodying the script and not just the lyrics. Be warned, it's a parody on the _characters_, using their names and everything. I used OBC names when referring to cast members just because the names rhymed well, but I'm not suggesting John Gallagher Jr. is really suicidal or anything.

If the font is centered, the character is singing. I'd suggest listening to the songs while reading the parodied lyrics- I tried to use assonance and consonance as best as I could, but I'd really appreciate feedback on any of the rhymes or rhythms that didn't match.

**Revised Notes: **I have been going through chapters and tweaking them a bit based on reviewer feedback and my own constantly changing ideas. Sorry for any inconvenient update alerts.

**Scene One: Mama, You Bore Me  
**

(The curtains open for a preview showing for the media to reveal…)

Elderly Press Member #1: *removes contacts and switches off hearing aid*

Journalist #1: Whoa, Broadway does porn?

Elderly Press Member #2: *faints*

Moritz (offstage): *runs away to hug his teddy bear*

Frau Bergman (offstage): *sighs* Here goes fourteen years of dance lessons...

(Wendla is in her undergarments, staring in an imaginary mirror, and pretending she's a mime. She focuses on the upper half of her body.)

Wendla (calling): Mama? I have lumps on my body! Do you suppose I have cancer?

(Her mother pretends she's not related to the girl onstage. Humming, Wendla picks up a see-through dress and begins singing to her mother- or maybe that's just the conductor who's waving his finger at her. She waves back with magic fingers.)

Wendla:

Mama, you're sure mean,

Mama, you gave me,

No say in anything-

Like, where is my dad?

Mama, the bleeping.

Mama, I'll dangle

On some floating platform,

Act I, the end.

I lay, then one day,

Doctor comes a'calling.

You light a candle,

Shove me down the road!

And I just lie there cryin'

For them to come and find me.

When Melchi comes,

I am already toast!

Mama Gabor, the

Mama of Melchi,

You "play" in Georg's dreams-

And you call me bad!

Mama, the sleeping

From awkward angles.

I'll sleep in haylofts

with Jonathan.

(Frau Bergman conveniently intrudes at the end of the song.)

Frau Bergman: WENDLA!

Wendla: MAMA! Don't look, I'm half-naked!

Any Teenage Boy Members of Stage Crew: *looks*

Melchior: *looks*

Moritz: *tries to shoot himself with his teddy*

Wendla: Wait! I'm not decent! *starts pulling off her dress*

Frau Bergman: *pulls Mother Schmidt aside* Say, have you got any of those pills on you?

* * *

**I decided to put the bulk of the conversation in the next chapter, with the reprise. Of course, if reviews or lack thereof tell me this is a flop, there may not even be a next section. But, even if it is the worst thing you've ever heard, tell me in a review so I can improve/stop disgracing the Spring Awakening fanfic section with such junk.**


	2. Mama, the Story, Reprise

**Disclaimer: **Only the parodied lyrics are mine, the rest belongs to geniuses. Also, if there are any other SA parodies out there that I accidentally borrow from, please tell me, I'd be happy to acknowledge and R&R.

**Notes: **First, I'd like to thank everyone for all of the reviews and favorites- I was amazed, since it was such a short chapter! (And, in my opinion, not one of my best parodied songs either- as some of you pointed out, it was just a bunch of foreshadowing.) Anyway, you've encouraged me to try for a chapter each week. (We'll see how fast I break that vow, though).

I based all the conversations off the musical scripts, but there are a few Wedekind-script references. Again, I'd recommend listening to the songs while reading. I cut out the harmonies except for Ilse's end ones because they would just be confusing and repeat anything I'd already written anyway.

On another note, please don't take offense that I'm mocking _Spring Awakening_. I'm doing it because I love it so much, the characters, plot, or whatever else I choose to make fun of. I even make fun of myself eventually.

Please note I've raised the rating to "M" for later scenes. *coughs* Still, if you've seen _Spring Awakening_, there's nothing in here that you haven't seen. Not that that narrows it down much. Okay enough rambling, read on (please).

**Scene Two: Mama, the Story (Reprise)**

Frau Bergman: Oh, my, Wendla, you've matured so much since I last saw you in the make-up room!

Wendla: That's because they refuse to cast a fourteen-year-old in the role of Wendla in fear of what it might promote to our young members of society.

Melchior (offstage): Hypocrites.

Frau Bergman: Wendla- that dress… it's so… so…

Wendla: Appealing?

Frau Bergman: Appalling! It's far too short!

Wendla: Oh, but Mama, can't I just wear it this once? Please?

Frau Bergman: Well…

Wendla: …please please please please please please...

Frau Bergman: No.

Wendla: But it makes me look like a fairy princess!

Frau Bergman: Well, okay.

(Long, awkward silence.)

Wendla: Mama…?

Frau Bergman: Yes…?

Wendla (blurting): What if I'm dead in seven songs?

Frau Bergman: Darling! Your foreshadowing unnerves me!

Wendla: Oh, but don't be sad- I'll come back as a ghost!

Moritz (offstage): Dude, being a ghost sucks.

Frau Bergman: Dear, that's… that's… you've made me forget my lines!

Wendla: Mama, how do I get pregnant?

(Silence. A horrified Frau Bergman is covering her face in her apron.)

Wendla: Oh, I'm just curious. It's not as if I'm planning to, you know…

Frau Bergman: Again with the foreshadowing! Why would you shame me by asking such a thing?

Wendla: 'Cause they haven't invented Internet yet.

Frau Bergman: I couldn't possibly tell you…

Wendla: Why not?

Frau Bergman: Because it would ruin the Act II plot!

Wendla: … please please please please please please please please please please please please...

Frau Bergman (praying): Hurry up, and die already, would ya?

Wendla (taking a breath): …please please please please please please...

Frau Bergman: FINE!

(Wendla pumps her fist.)

Frau Bergman: But you have to hide under my skirt.

Wendla: For a diagram?

(Frau Bergman slaps Wendla.)

Frau Bergman: Devil child!

Wendla: _You had sex with the devil!_

Hanschen (whispered offstage): She's not being very convincing, is she?

Ernst (dazed that Hanschen is talking to him): What's sex?

Hanschen: *evil laughter*

(The cast whistles. Back onstage, Wendla has her head wrapped in Frau Bergman's apron.)

Frau Bergman: To look pregnant, you must either gain a bunch of weight – and pay close attention, dear- ACT ONE, SCENE ELEVEN, MELCHIOR GABOR, SEX!

(Her microphone cuts out.)

Wendla: What was that?

Frau Bergman: Sorry, mike malfunction. Buh-bye.

Wendla: Mama!

(The girls stomp loudly onstage and start doing the wave with their bodies. They are singing out of hand held mikes, because they totally had those back in 1891 Germany. But not the wireless kind.)

Girls:

Mama, the story.

Gotta get angsty.

Come on, let's angst girls,

Yeah, we're all so bad.

Mama, I'm sorry.

Gotta get angsty.

We've all just gotta sing

'bout why we're so sad.

Mama, the bleeping.

It's so new-fangled.

We'll sing 'bout heaven,

Porn, and young men.

We pray that one day

He will come a'calling.

We'll light the candle-

Ilse:

No wait, that's RENT!

Girls:

Oh!

We all just lie there sighing

For them to come and find us,

We watch and hum for the entire show.

Ilse:

You can ignore me.

Duncan, you gave me

No part, scene eight, I'll

Get laid with my dad!

Girls:

Mama, we're seeping

With all the hormones

Let's go stalk Hanschen

And Jonathan!

(Squeals as the lights go out.)

Wendla (peeping): … can I come out now?...

**

* * *

So… better song than the first? Totally lame? Made you fall off your seat laughing? Made you fall off your seat, dead of shame someone would do such a thing to beloved SA characters?... desperate for feedback, here! Reviews motivate!  
**


	3. All That's Shown

**Disclaimer: **Only the parodied lyrics are mine.

**Notes: **On the bright side: I got a lot of new reviewers. On the down side: I seem to have lost most of my old ones. Hopefully, it's just a bad case of computers spontaneously crashing once they get to the end of the chapter because of its utter hilarity… or because it can't stand the horrible stain of my work upon the SA fandom. I know I said this before but: I am in love with Spring Awakening (specifically Moritz, that's why I torment him so). I am not in any way trying to make it lose its glory- I'm trying to make it seem like heaven in comparison.

**Scene Three: All That's Shown**

(The lights come on. A bunch of boys are reciting improvised gibberish. Moritz is drooling.)

Herr Sonnestich: Good. Herr… Herr…

Otto: Lammermeier, sir.

Herr Sonnenstich: Whatever. Say your one line and get on with it.

Otto (clearing his throat): Vi superum…

Herr Sonnenstich (interrupting): Next!

(Melchior yawns and begins doodling in his diary. Herr Sonnenstich closes in on Moritz.)

Herr Sonnenstich (to Melchior): What's his name again?

Melchior: Moritz, sir.

Herr Sonnenstich: Herr Sir!

(No response.)

Herr Sonnenstich: Herr Sir!

(Still no response. Frowning, Herr Sonnentich pokes Moritz with his teaching stick.)

Herr Sonnenstich: Is he dead?

Melchior: Not yet, sir.

Herr Sonnenstich: Ah. Well. Better start working on that.

(He whacks Moritz. Moritz jolts up.)

Moritz: Naked… Wendla…

Martha (offstage): *sobs*

Wendla (offstage): *horrified sobs*

Melchior: *sobs*

Ilse (offstage): Are you serious, boy?

Moritz: Must… have… Teddy…

Herr Sonnentich: Herr Sir, would you care to recite your lines?

(Moritz glances right and left of him.)

Moritz (to Melchior): When'd you change your last name?

Melchior: He's talking to you, idiot.

Moritz: Oh. (turning to Herr Sonnenstich) No, sir, I wouldn't care to.

Herr Sonnenstich: *growls*

Moritz: *hides under his desk*

Herr Sonnenstich: Now, Herr Sir.

Moritz: Actually, my name's John Galla…

Herr Sonnentich: NOW, YOU PIECE OF CRAP!

Moritz: *covers his head* Um… Uh… *starts praying* Our father, who art in…

Herr Sonnenstich: The verse!

Moritz (singing at the top of his lungs): GOD, I DREAMED THERE WAS AN ANGEL…

Melchior: Dude, not yet!

Herr Sonnenstich: Kid, do you have any idea what you're saying?

(Moritz hastily nods his head. Melchior gives him a glance and a slight shake of the head. Moritz quickly corrects himself and shakes his head vigorously.)

Herr Sonnenstich: Neither do I.

(Long pause. Herr Sonnenstich starts to beat Moritz with his stick.)

Melchior (rising): If you please!

Herr Sonnenstich: If I please…?

Melchior ("crap, I'm screwed"): If you please… beat me with a stick too?

Herr Sonnenstich: *shrugs* Okay. *beats Melchior with a stick*

Wendla (offstage): Beat? With a stick? Oooh, can I try?

Herr Sonnenstich: Alright, class! Take two!

Melchior: Sir, are you suggesting there are no further typos to…?

Herr Sonnenstich: *beats Melchior with a stick*

Melchior: Fine. I'll just go angst up my own song.

Boys (chanting): *mumble mumble* Eff my life *mumble mumble*

Melchior:

All that's shown,

In olden plays or Broadway.

So is owned

By Wedekind and Duncan.

The crowds come,

The critics bark and hound you

'til everything they say is just

Another fad about you.

All they say

Is, "Lust should stay unwritten.

Wendla's laid,

And Melchi goes to prison.

Hot is the sex in Duncan Sheik's revival.

Yet they will surely stay unless

Someone can hope to rival."

What we show

Has Broadway redefined

Just by cooking up some Health

Ed set back then.

Still we show

A version that's refined

In a play full of new pop hits.

On we show

The blonde kid's inner burning.

We are stars,

And Broadway is returning.

Appalling

To make my daily earning

In summer that that Ilse doesn't

Get that she's outgrown.

You watch me,

Just watch me,

Enthralling,

A modern Romeo.

You watch me,

Just watch me,

I'm squalling,

I'm squalling,

And now I have to go!

(He pumps his fist triumphantly. The boys finish their recitation, zombie-like.)

Boys: *mumble mumble* blah blah blah…

Herr Sonnenstich: *snoring*

Melchior: *pokes him with his stick*

Herr Sonnenstich: GWAH! Devil child! *beats Melchior up*

Wendla (offstage): Wait a sec, we have the same mother, we have the same father… EWWWW!… *dashes off to go puke*

Ilse: Geesh, you're not even pregnant yet. Get a stomach.

**

* * *

Reviews are Moritz. (In the sad, soulful sleepyhead way, not in the suicidal schoolboy way. I'd say "reviews are heaven," but then Melchior would start getting on my case.)**


	4. The Niche That's Effing

**Disclaimer: **I own Moritz! (JK. Just his parodied lyrics.)

**Notes: **For those who don't know, **"**Niche" means a place in nature or suitable place for somebody. It can be pronounced "nich" or "neesh," but for rhyming purposes, I'm going with the first. I'm not sure Broadway is exactly a niche… but, again, for story purposes, we'll stretch the definition. And I changed the rating yet again. Now it's back to T because I checked out some M-rated fics and decided mine was nowhere close to that explicit. Just a little language in this chapter, but given the real song title, it's understandable. Enjoy! Oh, and I included the harmonies.

**Scene Four: The Niche That's Effing**

Herr Sonnenstich: You're done already?... Fine, go doodle on your scripts. *goes back to sleep*

Moritz (under his breath): Crap. I'm gonna fail.

Melchior: Just read your lines off my script.

Moritz: *squeezes Melchior in a bear hug* THANK YOU, MELCHI, YOU'RE THE BESTEST GENIUS, ATHIEST, RADICAL RAPIST IN THE ENTIRE PLAY…

(Melchior shoves Moritz to the ground as Herr Sonnenstich snorts in their direction.)

Melchior: Don't mention it.

Moritz: But…

Melchior: Serious. No one's perfect; that's _my_ job.

Moritz: It's just, I couldn't sleep all night!

Melchior: Why not?

Moritz: I was stuck in a perpetual pit of nightmares!

Melchior: *blinks* So… you couldn't get to sleep because you spent the night having nightmares _while_ asleep?

(Moritz nods.)

Melchior: Okayyyy… so, what did you dream of?

Moritz: Oh, I couldn't possibly talk about it!

Melchior: Right.

Moritz: Legs! Without heads attached!

Melchior: Look, dude, I'm an actor, not a high school counselor. If you're having this much trouble, try "Next to Normal." You're suicidal, neglected, and dead, I'm sure you'd fit right in.

Moritz: I couldn't possibly! They're all, like, celebrities! It'd be a living nightmare, full of… of…

Melchior: What?

Moritz (whispered): Fangirls.

Any Teenage Girl Members of Stage Crew: *squeals*

Melchior: *laughs* Oh, Moritz, don't be stupid?

Moritz: But, isn't that what I'm paid for?

Melchior: We're teenage male Broadway stars, of course we all have fangirls! Right, girls?

Any Teenage Girl Members of Stage Crew: *silence*

Melchior (glares at Moritz): Pretend you didn't hear that.

Moritz: What? I didn't hear anything.

Melchior: Look, I'm so famous, I've got girls lying in front of me to rape them every night. Then there's Otto Lammermeier…

Moritz: Who?

Melchior: Well, he's got his mother. And Georg Zirschnitz has his piano teacher, Frau Knuppeldick, my mother, _and _Frau Bergman.

Moritz: *gasps* That's more than he has lines!

Herr Sonnenstich (waking up): Herr Sir!

Moritz: *whimpers*

Herr Sonnestich: You're pathetic. Who hired you?

(Angsty music. Moritz grabs his teddy bear, disguised for stage purposes as a mike.)

Moritz:

God, I dreamed I had an agent

Who could give me back a call

As I cried on the phone for him,

"This is not my role at all.

Help me out, out of this spike hair."

Then I got his returned call.

He said, "Just give it time, John,

Fame gets to one and all."

He said, "Call a stagehand, please,

Or simply keep control!

Take the fame and take the money,

Keep the sadness in your role.

Let them work that theatre magic

When you're bouncing off the wall."

He said, "They might make you die, kid,

But I wouldn't mind at all."

Melchior (doodling scantily clad women on his slate): _Ho_-hum.

Boys (except Melchior):

It's the niche that's effing!

Otto:

Niche, effing niche!

Boys:

With nothing but stagehands.

Otto:

Effing niche, yeah.

Boys:

Just your niche, you're living

As someone you can't stand!

Georg:

Every night, it's like fantastic,

Rocking, cursing without rest.

Cause my days beside the band, oh,

See that peach, my heart arrests.

Sing the blues,

Cause I get money

Only if I touch the balls

Of the messed-up, mean, odd sleazy

Grossebustenhal-!

(Realizing this song is right up his alley, Melchior pushes Moritz away from center stage.)

Moritz: Hey!

Melchior: Go kill yourself, kid.

Boys:

It's the niche that's effing

Since no one's showing on

When your niche is effing

Acting out these songs!

Do you think this song, it

Shows our woes?

Ernst:

Plays of cowering at some lass.

Hanschen:

Johnny Jr.- he's the best.

Looks so classy when he's tacky.

Ernst:

God, your whole life is a test…

Otto:

Then there's Jonathan and Lea

Both in _Glee_, they earn it all.

Hanschen:

She's like, "I'll kiss your ass, and

Then you can screw your doll."

Boys:

Oh…

Melchior:

It's the niche that effing.

Boys:

Niche that's effing.

Melchior:

And effing all that's said.

Boys:

Acting, niche that's effing.

Melchior:

Soon Moritz will be dead.

Boys:

It's the niche that's effing, theatre!

You'll never get ahead!

In this niche of effing.

Moritz:

You can't afford a bed.

Melchior:

Hey, watch me, just watch me!

I'm squalling the whole play.

All must know.

Boys:

It's the niche that's effing.

You grab what you can get

Since no one is giving.

Melchior:

You're rolling with the hits.

Boys:

Broadway is shit-

When you're not it…

Oh, Broadway, our niche.

Herr Sonnenstich: What? You're still here? *waves stick in the air* Shoo! I have to change characters before this scene's over!

Otto (raises hand): Sir, can I say my one English line now?

Herr Sonnenstich (as he leaves): Whatever.

Otto: I'm outta here!

(Hanschen sneaks up on Ernst.)

Hanschen (seductively): Hey, babe…

Ernst: *squeals*

Any Teenage Boy Members of Stage Crew: *squeals*

Hanschen: So, wanna have se- *coughs* I mean, wanna go _study _with me?

Ernst ("you're talking to me?"): Study?

Hanschen (seductively): Biology…

Ernst: But, we don't have…

(Hanschen drags him offstage, followed by some rather interesting noises.)

Georg: Crap, I have to go rape my piano teacher now…

(He leaves.)

Moritz: Oh, God, Melchi, I'm going to die!

Melchior: Yeah, pretty much.

Moritz: MELCHI! What can I do to rid of these atrocities, these… *whispers* fangirls?

Fangirl #1 from Stage Crew: OMG, he said my name!

Melchior: Well… we could…

(He gestures suggestively.)

Moritz (hissing): Melchi! That's non-canon!

Any Teenage Boy Members of Stage Crew: *sobs*

Melchior (skeptically): Really.

Moritz: Is anyone straight in this play?

(Everyone glances at each other. Herr Sonnenstich twiddles his thumb nervously.)

Melchior: Look, Moritz, you know how to get rid of the legs?

Moritz: Date a quadriplegic?

Melchior: No- I'll tell you about sex, and then you can dream about vaginas!

Moritz: Well, okay.

(Wendla eavesdrops offstage.)

Melchior: Okay, so sex is…

Moritz: Wait!

(Melchior waits. Moritz does nothing.)

Melchior: ?

Moritz: I need my teddy.

Melchior: *smacks himself in the head* Do I need to spell it out?

Moritz: Yeah, that'd be nice. *pulls a list out of his pocket* Sex Ed term paper: check…

Wendla (offstage): Crap.

Melchior: Alright. Well, I'm off to brood…

Moritz: Wait! I can't walk home alone.

Melchior: Why not?

Moritz: It's so dark!

Melchior (whispered): Dude, wrong scene.

Moritz: *sucks thumb*

Frau Knuppeldick (aside): Can we just kill Moritz now?

**

* * *

Yeah, and I wrote this before I learned that Jonathan Groff was gay. (Sorry to break the hearts of anyone that didn't know, but I thought it was hilarious when I found out, given the role he plays.) Anyway, I'd really appreciate reviews to help inspire the "Touch Me" parody- but the "My Junk" one is written (but unedited) and will be released next week given there's adequate interest.**


	5. My Punk

**Disclaimer: **Please… don't make me say it… okay, fine, just the lyrics are mine.

**Notes: **I'm continually amazed by my reviewers, and I only hope I do you all justice. Personally, I like the lyrics in the chapter (not so much the dialogue). Which is funny, because next chapter is going to be the opposite (not to scare anyone away). But it was definitely my reviewers that gave me the motivation to even write the next chapter, which, seeing how much trouble I was having with it, is a remarkable feat. But, back to this chapter.

**Scene Five: My Punk**

Thea: …with schoolgirl dresses and really weird hair-doos!

Anna: Ooooh! Wendla, what'll you wear to the reception?

Wendla: Um… well… I won't.

Girls: *gasps*

Thea: Are you and Melchior…?

Wendla: No! *blushes* My mama's not coming to see the show.

Girls: *gasps* Why not?

Wendla: She thought it was a little inappropriate.

Thea: Well, I hope she approves of the man _I _costar with!

Anna: Dude, you are costarring with him.

Thea: Well, who isn't? *sighs* I wish he would rape me…

Anna: And me…

Wendla: And me…

Everyone: *stares*

Martha: B-but there's that sleepy guy…

Thea: Melchior is the sleeper.

Martha: *mumbles* Moritz Stiefel…

Girls: Ewwww! Who'd sleep with him?

The Entire Cast: *raise hands*

Thea: Martha… just… no wonder you let your dad rape you, you've got terrible taste in men. *slaps Martha* Melchior Gabor is GOD! That's why he's an atheist! And you know the best part? He's single!

Girls: *sighs*

Wendla:

In the midst of this bustling,

The dressing room strife,

Still, I hear you sing,

And I think I might die.

Ilse (offstage): Already?

Martha:

This show's about loving-

Bad as that is.

Thea:

May break the rules,

But then, hey, that's show biz.

Anna:

There's love on the cover.

The media boasts.

They watch the show wondering

What they'll do when we go.

Thea:

But we'll never kick it because

This love is true.

We've all got our punk,

And my punk is you.

(She points to a random cute boy in the audience, who ducks for cover.)

Girls:

See us enter, stalking

Like it's the norm.

The thrill's in our sins

As we're torn up in barns.

Don't stop the spotlight

Just cause he's nude.

We've all got our punk,

And my punk is…

(They turn to gesture towards the center of stage, only to find a half-naked Hanschen with his hand half stuffed up his shirt.)

Girls:

EWWWWWW!

(And, because they're so grossed out, they stay and watch. Meanwhile, Georg is pretending to play the piano while attempting to stare down one of the band member's blouses.)

Fraulein Grossebustenhalter (giggling flirtatiously): Very nice, Skylar….

Georg: *falls off the stool*

Hanschen: Desdemona… if I like guys, how come I worship a postcard of you? *pause* I'm talking- _masterbating_ to a postcard? And I thought Moritz was the loony one.

Herr Rillow: Hanschen, are you alright?

Hanschen: Er, just stage fright. I'll be fine.

Herr Rillow: Yes?

Hanschen: Scarred for life.

Herr Rillow (leaving): Well, then.

Hanschen: Look, I don't take this job lightly. Truth is, I can hardly bare thinking of the long nights ahead. Watching the audience, motionless, every night. But it pays the bills- dignity or life, one of them must go!

Fraulein Grossebustenhalter: No, no, Georg! *touches him seductively* Your left hand plays it sexier…

(Georg hastily slides over to the opposite end of the stool. Hanschen stares at both of his hands, favoring the left hand to do the deed, since he's right-handed.)

Hanschen: Why… why press your knees together? Even now, on the brink of starvation? Don't you see it's your terrible modesty that'll drive you to…?

Herr Rillow: Hanschen! What could you possibly be doing in that bathroom?

Hanschen: Nothing!

Herr Rillow (hissing): And what are you supposed to be doing? (louder) How much longer are you going to masterbate in there?

Hanschen: One minute! (dramatically) Just one hand, down those soft, white thighs… oh, those cruel, cruel knees…

Fraulein Grossebustenhalter (crying dramatically): S'il vous plait, Georg, s'il vous plait!

(She tackles him and begins stripping. Georg pokes his head up, fearing for his life.)

Georg:

You have to abuse me,

Or I'll get laid off.

They love when we do stuff

That's nude in our s-ahhhh-ong!

(From the side, Wendla looks towards to commotion to find…)

Wendla: MAMA!

Frau Bergman: Uh… just schizophrenia, dear, pay no attention…

Hanschen (finally bringing himself to do the deed):

When I'm in my bathroom,

Derrière on the John.

Hands fade from view,

And they stay there all song.

Anna:

They die- but that's living.

We play out these scenes.

It's right, all the lust

That gives folks those bad dreams.

Thea:

We keep resurrecting-

We'll sing all taboos.

'Cause we're all just punks,

And my punk is you!

All:

We will all keep rocking,

And we will fawn.

Birth pills, naked men-

Shield your good girls from harm.

They say some go blind.

(The piano teacher continues stripping while Hanschen lets his dad sniff his sperm.)

All:

Probably true.

We've all got our punk,

And my punk is you…

(The girls hover by their respective canon pairings. Fraulein Grossebustenhalter is suffocating Georg, and Melchior, now center stage, is bathing in the girls' seductive gazes.)

All:

Is it such a crime?

Butts being nude?

We've all got our punk,

And Melchi, that's you!

My punk is you!

You!

You!

You!

Moritz (offstage):… who's you?

Ilse (offstage, shyly): If you want, you can be my junk, Moritz.

Herr Stiefel (offstage). No. Way. I did not pay millions of dollars for thousands of theatre classes for you to grow up to be a frickin' drug!

**

* * *

The next chapter will be up next week. (I don't think I have to threaten with reviews anymore, but I really appreciate them, since I'm having the same trouble writing "Word of Your Body" as I did with "Touch Me" and could really use anything to convince me it won't turn out like junk, no pun intended.)**


	6. Money

**Disclaimer: **Well, if it were mine, I probably wouldn't be parodying it.

**Notes: **Okay, well… I didn't mean to make this chapter so dirty, but how else are you going to describe sex? The lyrics are lame really don't do merit to "Touch Me" in the slightest. (My only complaint with that song is that the rhyme pattern is so hard to mimic… which could be seen as a compliment, I guess.) Hopefully the dialogue's worth it even if the lyrics aren't, since I made the written part _really _long. And I may have overdone the "gay Melchior" a bit… but Moritz is so fun to play with, and I am going somewhere with this…

Things to remember: In Eric Bentley's translation of Wedekind's _Spring Awakening_, there's a section describing the Masked Man, who, among many guesses, was suggested to be Melchior's father or God. The version is excellent, by the way. I highly recommend it. The section was entitled "God the Father, and Father the God."The OBC actor who played Hanschen was Jonathan B. Wright. I know, you'd probably forget your own name before his, but still. So much explanation for two insignificant and lame lines that come later…

**Scene Six: Money**

(Melchior is brooding at a desk and pretending to scribble in his diary.)

Melchior: December 10, 2006. The question is: fame. Where does it come from, and how do I get it?

Wendla (offstage): Blockbuster?

Ilse (offstage): Don't bother. The remake's crap.

Hanschen (offstage): Are you serious? Fame is crap?

Moritz (from the lobby): That's what I've been trying to tell everyone!

(Fangirls begin to swarm him in mobs; in less than a second, several clips of his hair are being sold on eBay via cellular phones. In even less time, all of them have been sold from over a million dollars.)

Melchior (to his diary, as if it were a sentient being): You know what fame is?

(He has an epiphany and strips the audience with his eyes.)

Melchior (emphatically): _Porn_. Hence, I have refused to play for anything less than five hundred grand.

Frau Gabor (offstage): Melchior, Moritz is here to talk about sex!

(Moritz stumbles onstage looking like he's just been raped. Melchior looks up seductively.)

Moritz: Sorry I'm late. I got lost.

Melchior: Backstage?

Moritz: The curtain didn't have a door!

Melchior: Yeah, that's why it's a curtain.

Moritz: So I had to go all the way through the audience while the fandevils rubbed their hands through my hair and kept asking me to touch them.

Melchior: That'd be your understudy, since you were late for your number.

Moritz (under his breath) _Yes! _*coughs* I mean, damn him.

Melchior: It's okay. Now we have time to talk about your- *pulling out tons of papers*- extra curricular reading!

Moritz: *stares* I only know how to read picture books, Melchi.

Melchior: Don't worry, they have pictures.

Moritz: Um…

Melchior (suggestively): You know, we don't have to _talk_ if you don't want to…

Moritz: Melchi, I'm _exhausted_…

Melchior: Okay! *dashes to the bed*

Moritz: Who's idea was it to cast a gay guy as Melchior?

Melchior (grumbling): Who's idea was it to cast a straight guy as Moritz? *pauses and points* What's up with the hair? And I mean that literally.

Moritz: The hairdressers put starch in it.

Melchior: You know, I was thinking…

Moritz: Should I get offstage for this?

Melchior: If we cuss, masturbate, have sex…

Moritz: WE HAVE SEX?

Melchior (rolling his eyes): That's what I've been trying to tell Duncan Shiek… you know, Moritz, if you don't have sex, you die.

Moritz: Really?

Melchior: Mmm-hmmm. Without reproduction- AKA sex- the human race will die off.

Moritz: MELCHI! I'M GONNA DIE!

Melchior: How many times do I have to tell you? *pauses* But you know, that's easily remedied…

Moritz: How?

Melchior: *gestures so his mom won't hear*

Moritz: That's silly, Melchi! Two men can't reproduce!

Melchior (grumbling): Yeah, sure, fine, you have stupid hair anyway… But as I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself, if we blow all taboos anyway, why not promote smoking as well?

Moritz: I don't know. Doesn't smoking make you die?

Melchior: Like you're going to live long enough to die?

Moritz: Good point. *starts smoking* Melchi, I was up all last night, just praying, "God, give me a gun in Act II so I can shoot myself!"

Melchior: With any luck, he won't grant _that_ wish.

Herr Stiefel (running onstage): Granted! *hands Moritz the gun before dashing off*

Melchior: Well, luck's overrated. Your dad's God?

Moritz: According to Wedekind, yours is too. Look, Melchi, I can't even focus on- ooh, lookie! Shiny thing in the audience!

Melchior: Um, that's the spotlight.

Moritz: GAH! *hides under the desk* Why won't it go away?

Melchior: It's a frickin' light, Moritz.

Moritz: I think I'm dying, Melchi, I see a light … and it's so dark…

Melchior: One, that's a paradox, and two-

(He attempt to drap Moritz up.)

Melchior: That's Act II!

Frau Gabor (entering): Tea, boys?… Moritz, why is Melchior trying to drag you out from underneath his desk?

Moritz: He's a rapist!

Melchior: That's also Act II!

Frau Gabor:… okay, well, I taught you how to use a condom.

(Melchior blushes.)

Moritz: Melchi! Is there anyone in this cast you haven't raped?

(Offstage, Herr Sonnenstich twiddles his fingers once more.)

Moritz: Oh, God…

Melchior: Yep, him too…

(Awkward silence.)

Frau Gabor: Moritz, you look like you haven't slept in days!

Melchior: Just think- he was up all night reading my sex essay!

Moritz (blurting) Rehearsing lines!

Frau Gabor (pointing): What's that you're reading now?

Melchior (proudly): Wedekind's _Spring Awakening_.

Moritz (sarcastically): Yeah, it's to die for.

Melchior: I really relate to this Melchior guy…

Frau Gabor: That play's really not good for you. *shrugs* I call it when you're done.

(She leaves.)

Melchior (mutters): Censorship.

Moritz: I think she was referring to the story of Wendla and her illegitimate child.

(Melchior shrugs.)

Moritz: Your mother's certainly… is that dress the latest style these days? 'Cause I swear, I see it everywhere. Even in my sticky dreams.

Melchior: Now that's a bit unsettling.

Moritz: Hey! If I were going to commit suicide, your mother would be the first person I'd write to. *pauses* Okay, this part here- about what's under the dress. Is it true?

Melchior: Absolutely. Want me to set you two up?

Ilse (offstage): No!

Martha (offstage): No!

Wendla (offstage): Mama!

Melchior: Well, someone's got a lot of fans.

Moritz: If only I didn't! That's why I was up all night. *whimpers* So much fanmail…

Melchior (offended): What? *snatches all of Moritz's fan mail* Okay, forget what you read, this is my pile.

Moritz: B-but it says, "Dear John, I know why you shot yourself. It's 'cause Ilse's so ugly, but I'm not, so wanna have sex after the show?"

Melchior: *snatching it* As I said. Mine. John's obviously short for Jonathan, and as the show's biggest male attraction, I get the most mail.

Hanschen (offstage): Under those parameters, it's mine.

Melchior: Shut up, you're gay.

Hanschen: You're gay too!

Moritz: Well, why shouldn't we all be happy?

(Everyone stares.)

Moritz: Right.

Melchior: Moritz, fan mail isn't a nightmare. It's any Broadway actor's wet dream!

Moritz: Exactly! *pauses* And it gave me a paper cut!

Melchior: *laughs* Oh, Moritz, that's not the only way it'll make you bleed… See, you know why we actors do shows?

Moritz: Um, so fathers won't kick us out of the house when we flunk school?

Melchior: For the money!

Moritz: And not the sex?

Melchior: Money is sex, and sex is money!

Wendla (offstage): Aha!

Moritz: But… what do you think it feels like… to be famous…

Melchior: Well, like this.

(Moritz waits. Melchior realizes Moritz needs something more visual and sighs, recalling what happened last time he gave Moritz a visual interpretation. So this time, he adds audio. In the background, all the boys except Ernst hold copies of the essay Melchior gave them when he taught them about sex. He gave all them something visual too.)

Melchior:

What I show- with my ho there-

No more wet dreams anymore.

Just celeb relationships,

And women often dying to be your whore.

Moritz:

Dare I show...? Let's not go there.

No more listening anymore!

Lonely hymns upon my lips.

Ballistic kids, degrading women with porn.

(Evidently, Hanschen wasn't Ernst's first, since, of all people, Ernst begins pretending to have sex.)

Ernst:

Money.

Just like that.

That performance.

Snogging Hanschen.

That night- Broadway's got spice.

The amore's now, where the fame lies...

Melchior: Can't you just hear the money, Moritz?

Moritz: No.

Girls:

Dough, a lot.

Dough, fad, fad, fad...

Dough, a lot.

Dough, fad, fad, fad...

Moritz: I can't be famous, Melchi! The fangirls will try to steal my vagina!

Melchior (dreamily): I know… I mean, what?… That says virginity.

Moritz: Whatever. Steal my virginity!

Melchior: Well, why didn't you say so earlier? *pounces*

Moritz: *runs offstage screaming* WATCH OUT WENDLA, MELCHI'S A RAPIST!

Wendla: What's a rapist?

Frau Gabor: Oh dear, has Moritz left already? I was just getting his condom… I mean, tea.

Melchior: He went go kill himself.

Frau Gabor: God. *shrugs* Is _Spring Awakening _really the best thing for Moritz?

Melchior: Come on, he only dies in one scene!

Frau Gabor: Well, since when did dying ever kill anyone? *pauses* What are you doing here, Wendla? Is my son raping you too?

Melchior: Yep.

Wendla: What's rape? And what are you doing here, Mama?

(Long silence.)

Melchior (muttering): That Wedekind guy was really heavy on the incest…

Wendla: What's that?

(Martha shifts nervously as Frau Bergman whisks Wendla offstage.)

Melchior: So _that's _why she's so charming- she's related to me!

Girls:

Money.

Money.

A lot.

A lot.

Dough...

Dough…

Dough…

Otto:

Where I go with my dough, there's

No more sad shows anymore!

Phone women with golden skin

and livin' rich while knocking women's front doors.

Georg:

Yeah, I know that I'll go there.

No more waiting- fame's in store.

Phone me in celeb-bound ships

With token Misses costing little; you've more.

Melchior and Moritz (and harmonies):

Money.

All file in.

Maybe, lust sells, we

Do what's forbidden.

Money.

Assume your guy,

and fume your lines.

Then take a bow.

Where we'll go for our money!

Georg:

Dough!

Just, just buy and-

Buy your tickets,

Oh, you'll take seven.

Oooh, I love spotlights.

Well, wander down!

Where women sigh.

All:

Money!

Just like that!

Not goin' down,

We're an outcry!

Love me-

Must be a hit.

Yeah, wander down,

Where the hits fly.

There I will rise.

There I will rise.

There I will rise.

Hanschen: How come I don't get a solo?

Moritz: 'Cause you suck!

Hanschen (raising fist): You wanna die, kid?

Moritz: Kinda, yeah. *dashes off to find teddy bear*

**

* * *

Okay… bad song, and "WOYB" is looking worse, not better, but I hopefully "The Dark I Know Well" will make up for it. (Since it's, in my opinion, the best song in the entire musical, tied with "Those You've Known.")**


	7. Songbirds of Poor Broadway

**Disclaimer: **Would I want to put my name on this excuse of an imitation, much less Duncan Sheik's?

**Notes: **Well, a lot more of you liked "Touch Me" than I thought, so I'm hoping the same will work for this scene. To be honest, WOYB is my least favorite number (which isn't saying much, since I love them all), so I'm thinking that's why I had so much trouble rewriting it. Or maybe it's just that Moritz isn't in the scene. But he is in the end, in the "I passed" scene. Yes, I did improvise a bit there, and I think I've come up with something I like… Hopefully, the feeling's mutual, but you can review regardless.

On another note, I've added to and rewritten part of the first chapter (and may do so to others). It's not much, but if you want to go back and read (and review!) it, feel free.

Oh, and some of the lines sung by both in WOYB are sung by only Melchior, etc. It just worked better.

**Scene Seven: Songbirds of Poor Broadway**

(Having lost her map of the stage, Wendla wanders onstage with the flowers some idiot named Cory tried to seduce her with. Melchior yet again talks to his diary.)

Melchior: Our subject today: some hot girl. *pauses* That pretty much covers it.

Wendla: Excuse me? I'm looking for the dressing room of Jonathan Groff.

Melchior (dazed): Forget him.

Wendla: OMG, Melchior Gabor?

Melchior: Yeah, and you're…. uh, hot!

Wendla: *feels her forehead* That's funny. I don't feel the anemia kicking in yet.

Melchior: That's 'cause you need to get something kicking first.

(Really awkward silence.)

Melchior: Um, why did all of the stagehands suddenly embark on spontaneous coffee breaks at the same time?

Wendla: Mama's making wine.

Melchior: Mmmmm… alcohol…Okay, now we've promoted every possible taboo.

Mother Schmidt (offstage): Drugs!

Melchior (mumbled): And that covers drag queens…

Wendla (randomly): Want a flower?

Melchior: *stares beyond the flower*

Wendla: They're good for funerals and makeshift teddy bears while you commit suicide.

Melchior: Guess that means I'll need the bunch.

Wendla: So… what are you doing?

Melchior: Waiting for some girl I can rape.

Wendla: How romantic!

Melchior: I know.

(Melchior points at Ernst, who is praying fervently.)

Melchior (cont'd): I hope it's her.

Ernst (offstage): Holy Mary, mother of grace…

Wendla: Um… that's a guy.

Melchior: Couldn't be. She's blushing.

(Wendla kicks the curtain shut.)

Wendla: Well, I'm a girl.

Melchior: Oh… I'm sorry.

Wendla: For what?

Melchior: I dunno. *pauses* Wanna stare at hot boys in the audience with me?

(Wendla sits by Melchior and stares at him for five straight minutes of awkward silence.)

Melchior: Um…so… done any charity lately?

Wendla (beaming): I now qualify for the poverty tax return, and I haven't eaten in ten days because I have a secret desire to force pain upon myself.

Melchior: *stares at her waist*

Wendla: You know, so I can feel what it's like to be a starving artist?

Melchior: That's stupid.

Wendla: Well, what'd you expect?

Melchior: It's just- why waste your time funding and feeding starving artists? Clearly, if they're "starving" artists, they're meant to starve. God's will.

Wendla: Aren't you an atheist?

Melchior: I worship myself.

Wendla: And you're not the only one! *blushes* I mean, the way I figure, the more money everyone has, the richer everyone will be!

Melchior: Hmmm… I think I'm going to name that theory hyperinflation.

Wendla: Well, if the U.S. uses it, why shouldn't we?

Melchior: If the U.S. jumped in a lake, would you?

Wendla: I suppose I'd sink into the ocean with it.

Melchior: God, you're dumb. *slaps her* We're in Germany!

Wendla: I'm not God!

Melchior: Did your mother teach you anything?

Wendla: No. *pauses* And God doesn't live in Germany!

Melchior: Exactly what I've been trying to tell everyone! *pauses* You know, I have absolutely no idea who you are.

Wendla (beaming): I'm…

Melchior: Stupid. Got it.

(Wendla opens her mouth.)

Melchior: Look, we've never talked before. Can we keep it that way?

Wendla: *gestures profanely*

Melchior: Come on, I barely know you

Wendla: *rolls eyes*

Melchior: Okay, good point. *pulls her closer* Wouldn't it be remarkable if we had a number together? You know… boys… girls… boys…

Wendla: Mmmm… Melchi, I had a dream…

Melchior: Uh, one, that's Martin Luther King Jr., and two, hasn't happened yet.

Wendla: I was on a television set- some cheesy-looking high school- and you were there! And everyone was singing, and you were pressuring me to have sex, but you were only playing me so you could win some award…

Melchior: God, that's accurate.

Wendla: I told you, I'm not God!

Melchior: You're sure this wasn't yesterday's rehearsal?

Wendla: Couldn't be, 'cause then you came out of the closet!

Melchior: *covers her mouth* Shhhhhh!

Wendla: That Steven Sater locked you in after you mooned the audience?

Melchior: Oh. Um, you're sure you were dreaming?

Wendla (shyly): We could dream together…

Melchior: What is there to dream about? We're on Broadway!

Wendla: I guess… it must have been a dream, then. There's no sex on Broadway.

Melchior: Since when have you known what sex is anyway?

Wendla: Oh, I don't. I'm reading it out of your diary.

Melchior: *snatches diary*

Wendla: I should probably go. I'm supposed to be back onstage for my next number.

Melchior: That's not why you're here?

Wendla: I know, I'd rather stay… sleep with you… rest in peace…

Melchior: You can.

Wendla: *grins seductively*

Melchior: Our number's up- that'll do you in.

Wendla: In what way?

Melchior: Trust me, just talking to you makes me want to fall asleep.

Wendla: You don't need to imagine.

(She squirms closer. Melchior shoves her away.)

Wendla: Humph. Broadway sucks.

(With a sigh, Wendla perches herself next to him.)

Wendla:

Such low appeal, all this.

Watching those girls just swing their hips.

Melchior:

Mating some girl- who cares, STD's?

Both:

Currently, we're songbirds of poor Broadway.

Melchior:

All depressing- no bliss.

Wendla:

All things unfurl with a single kiss.

(She takes his hand and glances at him knowingly. Melchior looks the other way.)

Melchior:

Playing a boy who will not appease.

(Randomly, they pull each other off the ground and pretend each other are portraits so they have an excuse to stare at each other. Then, they enter eerie foreshadowing mode once more.)

Both:

Randomness may occur while we're onstage.

Wendla:

Oh, I'm gonna be soon dead.

Melchior:

Oh, I'm gonna beat you soon.

Oh, I'm gonna lose you.

Both:

But for now let's sing our tunes.

Melchior: Wanna dance?

Wendla: *starts doing her mime dance*

Melchior: Never mind.

Melchior:

Why don't I feel on your tits?

Wendla:

Yawning the words in drowsy bliss.

(Since Wendla obviously didn't get the hint from his last line, Melchior whirls her around and starts to touch the upper half of her body.)

Melchior:

Playing with her on a platform, geeze.

Both:

This is just so obscure- how it haunts you!

Oh, we wanna be swoonin'.

Melchior:

Oh, the audience, be mooned!

Both:

Oh, I wanna woo you.

But for now you'll hear our coo's.

(They turn the stare at the audience as the light dims…)

Wendla: Hey! My spotlight!

Melchior: Looks like it's getting late. *tries to hold her hand before realizing he already is* Shall I escort you home?

Wendla (whining): Can't we go hang out in the hayloft?

Hanschen (from hayloft): No!

Ernst (from hayloft): *squirms*

Melchior: Come on. I'll have you offstage in ten minutes.

Wendla: Ten? But it's only ten feet away! How could it possibly take-?

(She's cut off as the lights black out, and Melchior grabs her. Moritz tiptoes onstage in attempts to evade everyone, only to find…)

Moritz: *drops in dead faint*

Melchior (groaning): Moritz, not yet…

Wendla: Moritz Stielfel?

Moritz: Oh my god… it's a girl…

Wendla: You ruined my first kiss!

Melchior (guiltily): Well, actually, "kiss" isn't quite what…

Moritz: Where'd her dress go?

(Everyone stares at Wendla's undergarments. Even Wendla. Otto bounds onstage with all of the boys as Moritz makes a dive under of the desks.)

Otto: There he is!

Hanschen: Oooh… Melchi got caught!

(Melchior whisks Wendla offstage. Moritz uncovers his eyes.)

Moritz: Can I come out?

Melchior (offstage): Totally!

Hanschen: Please don't.

Ernst: You're trembling…

Moritz: For joy! Pure and certain joy!

Georg: Aren't you supposed to be depressed?

Moritz: Well, who says I can't be depressed and happy?

Ernst: The English dictionary.

Moritz: Well, good thing we're German.

(Melchior zips onstage.)

Melchior: Ha! I slipped some birth pills in her water! That should kill her for a while… *hands Moritz his script* Okay, so here are my numbers… Fortunate for us, you've already memorized the half you're in…

Georg: Melchior, Moritz snuck into Duncan Sheik's files!

Melchior: Did you write Wendla into "Don't Do Sadness?"

Moritz: No…

Melchior: Moritz! *slaps* What were you thinking?

Moritz: I wasn't. *grins* The good news is, they're keeping me!

Hanschen:… so what's the good news?

Moritz: *hugs Georg* Everything will now be determined by the next few scenes. But I know I'll pass.

Hanschen: Away, that is.

Moritz: *ignores Hanschen* God, this must be what heaven feels like… *hugs Otto*

Hanschen: Well, you'll know soon.

Moritz: *hugs Ernst*

Hanschen: Hey!

Melchior: *hugs Moritz sexily*

Moritz: Melchi… I feel like we're being watched…

(In the writer's room…)

Steven Sater: Well, it appears we have a problem.

Duncan Sheik: Indeed. We appear to have inserted ourselves in our own play.

Steven Sater: Somehow, the Wendla we hired is so extremely annoying that the love scenes appear to be having the opposite effect on Melchior.

Duncan Sheik: We can't have that handsome radical be distracted from his duty by some vagabond we picked off the street. And with Melchior's salary, we can't afford more than sixty actors, stagehands, and band members…

Steven Sater: Then let us look to the scenes ahead. Remember, it is I who will be writing them.

Duncan Sheik: So the blasphemous name of our play is secure?

Steven Sater: *grins*

**

* * *

We all know I love Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater, right? And we all know I love reviews?**


	8. The Part I Know Well

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, right.

**Notes: **I can never have a chapter I'm entirely proud of, can I? *shakes head* I seem to have lost many of my reviewers, but I'll blame that on my less than perfect last chapter. Even in this one, some of the dialogue is sketchy… but I like the lyrics much better. Especially since this was the second song I parodied. And also my favorite song in the entire musical tied with "Those You've Known." The boys' parts are shortened and approximated since their parts are either monosyllabic or repetitive.

I didn't think it was entirely appropriate to make fun of Martha and Ilse's rapes, since as Wendla tells Melchior next chapter, those aren't just stories. (Wendla's rape in the musical version is a little different because it's somewhat consensual.) So I tried to only parody society's ignorance at these crimes and how neglected the characters Martha and Ilse are compared to Wendla. Hence the title:

**Scene Eight: The Part I Know Well**

(The girls walk in, arm in arm. Martha lives in Wendla's shadow as Thea reads a "borrowed" radical's diary out loud.)

Thea:… My darling Thea, I must set my head against your breast… we can breathe together…

Wendla: It's funny how he knows all this about you when you've never talked.

Martha (dreamily): Does that work for everyone?

Wendla (irritated): Martha, you don't talk.

Martha: That's why I…

Thea: Shut up, he's writing about my legs!

Anna (bored): I rather wish we hadn't taken the shortcut through the men's dressing rooms.

Wendla (whining): It made me really sleepy…

All of the Boys Except Ernst: *poke heads out and unbuckle belts*

Ernst (offstage): Hanschen!

Hanschen (offstage): Uh… pussycat, Ernst, pussycat…

Thea: Well, someone had to see if Melchi Gabor had taken his pants off!

Anna: You're not the one who had to hold Hanschen's hand during the encore.

Ernst (offstage): Hanschen!

Hanschen (offstage): Is it my fault you were sweaty?… Please don't answer that.

Thea: You're all just jealous.

Wendla: Of what?

(Everyone struggles to think of something.)

Martha (dreamily): That you don't get a sex scene with Moritz?

Wendla: Oh, don't be jealous of me, Martha. *taunts* I get a sex scene with Melchior!

Melchior (offstage): Man, I'm jealous.

Wendla: And, anyway, you have stupid hair!

Thea: Yeah, Martha, your frickin' braid is coming undone again!

Anna: God, Martha, only Wendla and Ilse are allowed to look hot!

Martha (timidly): Sorry… it's just, your words before inspired me to pursue my punk, so I hired Moritz's hairdresser…

Wendla: Ewwww… she's female!

Martha: She's not my punk! It's the one she spends time with.

Anna: …so, you mean to say you're narcissistic?

Martha: *sighs* Forget it. Anyway, about the braid, the hairdresser…

Thea (threatening): Martha…

Martha: Kinda sucks.

Wendla: Duh.

Moritz (offstage): *breaks comb in his hair*

(Martha struggles to braid her hair.)

Wendla: Tomorrow, that hair had better be perfectly imperfect, 'cause I'm bringing scissors, and if you make me look short and ugly, I will CUT YOU FROM THE SHOW!

Martha: For God's sake, Wendla, no! Papa beats me enough as it is!

Thea: Who cares?

Anna: What's a beating?

Wendla: I WANT ONE!

Martha: Um… never mind, I was, uh, lying.

Wendla: No, you weren't! I'm the only one who gets laid! *slaps her* Tell us!

Martha: *glances warily at audience*

Anna: Come on, Martha, we tolerate your presence!

Martha: Well… sometimes… when I don't get the parts he likes…

Anna: Get on with it!

Martha (blurting): He pulls out his belt!

Wendla: Oh. Well. That's nothing, men do it in front of me all the time.

Anna (dreamily): If I could belt, _I'd _play Wendla…

Thea: Yeah, what's so scary about a belt?

Martha: The part I can't tell.

Wendla: What part?

Martha: The part where he beats and rapes me.

Wendla: Oh, Martha, don't complain. That also happens to me all the time.

Anna: Where's your mama?

Martha: Writing a response to Moritz's suicide note. *sighs* All of our parents are the same.

Frau Gabor (offstage): *scribbling in diary* And Frau Bergman was totally wearing the same dress as me!

Martha (mocking): *clears throat* "Martha, we can't have you ruining our dignity. Now, go rape your father." *a beat- in this case, a second* One time, I ran offstage.

Wendla: How rude!

Martha (continued imitation): "Offstage? Then you'll land on the streets!"

All Girls: *fist pumps* Yes!

Martha: It was so dark…

Moritz (offstage): *cocks gun*

Anna: …I don't get it.

Wendla: He beats you with a belt!

Martha: With anything!

Wendla: With a feather?

Martha: Good point.

Wendla: With a stick?

Martha: *rolls up sleeve* See the welts?

Anna: God- that's a terrible make-up job!

Wendla (horrified): You can't get beaten with a stick! I get beaten with a stick! *considers what she just said* Twice!

Anna (seriously): Martha, you can't tell anyone about this.

Martha: But…

Anna: They'll charge you as a sex offender!

Thea: And fire you for good!

Wendla: Wait, then why don't we want her telling anyone?

Thea: Or, worse, they'll treat you like Ilse!

Wendla: Remember her?

Everyone: *scratch heads* Um…

Wendla: See? What happened to her was so bad, she's invisible!

Martha: I can sympathize.

Wendla: Look where she is now!

Ilse (from hayloft): Damn.

Wendla: Poor Martha, raped in all the attention… tell ya what, I'll beat myself with a stick for you.

Martha: Why?

Wendla: I need a reason?

Thea: Well, if you don't discipline an actress, they turn out whiny.

Wendla: Oh. That explains me.

Anna: When I have a child, I'm going to let them be free. You know, tell them not to act on Broadway.

Thea: But without Broadway, how can we be stars?

(The girls skip offstage, leaving Martha alone.)

Martha: *sighs and angsts*

(Suddenly, the power blows, yet somehow the band is able to use their amps. Martha wanders to center stage in the dark, since it's the only time she can without Wendla complaining she's stealing the spotlight.)

Wendla: Martha! Get on set!

Martha:

Scouting parties won't dwell

On the part I know well.

Wendla: Martha! Get your costume on- yes, that ugly brown thing your father evidently approves of.

Martha:

You say, "Get on set, now, child."

Then you smile that smile.

Like, "We've seen this already.

She's abused by her daddy."

So I sing, wanting just to cry,

Knowing deep inside,

They are waiting for the

Number's grand finale.

You say, "All I want is a flawless first night."

Then you scold me, and you whisper,

"Martha, just be quiet.

It's 'bout him and me,

And us getting nudey.

God, it's good, the lovin'

On opening night-

They ain't seen nothin' yet,

When they cut the lights

It's 'bout him and me.

Martha, do your duty."

Herr Neumann: Ilse! Time to enter the story now!

Ilse (grumbles): Finally!

Ilse:

I don't sing solo for eight songs!

I just dance along.

'Til she gets beat,

Then I'm dead meat.

I wanna sing songs,

I want the crowd to shout out

That I need a Tony.

Who cares 'bout cooties?

Martha/Ilse:

We are such cuties.

Martha: Ilse? Aren't you supposed to be in Priapia?

Ilse: Yeah… but I left to stalk Moritz.

Martha: *sobs*

Moritz: *sobs*

Ilse (awkward): So… you get a dead end storyline too?

Martha: *hugs Ilse*

Moritz (muttered): Perfect. Both my girlfriends are lesbians.

(The boys pretend to be ghosts in the background, since Steven Sater realizes that only Moritz would need extra practice to be dead.)

Boys:

Gah!

Gah!

Gah!

Gah!

Writers always screw me!

Martha/Ilse:

You say, "All I want is a flawless first night."

Then you scold me, and you whisper,

"This is my limelight.

It's 'bout him and me

When he bears his booty.

God, it's good, the lovin'

On opening night-

They ain't seen nothing yet

When they cut the lights.

It's 'bout him and me.

Children, do your duty."

Boys:

Gah!

The heart you will sell.

Gah!

In the part you know well.

Gah!

Martha/Ilse:

Scouting parties won't dwell

On the part I know well.

Scouting parties won't dwell

On the part I know well.

Scouting parties won't dwell

On the part I know well.

Scouting parties won't dwell

On the part I know well.

(Since they can't get any darker, the lights flash back on, and the girls dash offstage, since they can never, ever steal the spotlight.)

Scouting Party Member #1: Who were those girls?

Scouting Party Member #2: Dunno. *yawns* Next scene!

Wendla: *races onstage with her skirt raised* Beat me! Beat me! *snaps at Martha and Ilse* 'Cause you sure can't!

Scouting Party Member #1: …get Ryan Murphy on the line. Tell him we've found Rachel Berry.

**

* * *

Yes, I know I'm making a lot of Glee references, since both Lea Michele and Jonathan Groff are on the show (Jesse so beats Finn). I admit, I'm a semi-Gleek. The plot isn't great, but getting anything resembling Broadway on television these days is worth watching, especially for Groff and Michele's music. If only they sung "Spring Awakening…" Okay, well, hope you enjoyed, if all goes well, the next chapter will be up next week. One translation of "if all goes well" could be "if I get enough reviews…" Nah, I'm not that cruel. (But Martha is feeling a little neglected right now…)**


	9. The Hurt of the Rod Re prise

**Disclaimer: **Let's see… something original… wait, I don't own anything original… guess that settles that.

**Notes:** Wow. The review count exploded this week (in a good way). Especially with school tightening up, they really helped me finish the chapter on time. So thank you all of you, you do not know how much they mean to me.

You've probably figured out I'm doing chapters by song, not by scenes. I felt that the beating scene stood on its own, though, so I'm making it its own scene under the excuse that "The Word of Your Body (The First Reprise)" is a song too, even though it's only four lines. That's where the lame title comes from. Figures that the only SA song I don't like as much is repeated three times. Anyway, enjoy, review if possible!

**Scene Nine: The Hurt of The Rod- Re(prise)**

(Melchior wanders onstage.)

Melchior: Preshow rehearsal. The trouble is- playwrights. *pauses* And I can't find my frickin' diary.

(Thea pushes Wendla, still sipping her preshow coffee, onstage.)

Thea: *shoves diary at Wendla* You stole it, okay?

Wendla: I did?

Thea: *nods*

Wendla: Oh! Do you think he'll be angry?

Thea: *shrugs* At least he'll have an excuse to beat you.

(Further downstage…)

Steven Sater: Herr Gallagher, a word with you?

Moritz: Um… pay day?

Steven Sater: *points offstage* Pack.

Moritz: Crap.

Melchior (continuing his rant): …a world where writers, like playwrights, view us as fodder for a lucrative business- have you seen my diary?

Steven Sater: Not now, Jonathan, we're in the middle of firing John.

Moritz: *clutches fire extinguisher anxiously*

Melchior: Oh. Cool. *continues rant* A unified cast where anyone decent must be stripped bare… literally.

Moritz: *sighs and starts stripping*

Steven Sater: You are _not _decent, John.

Moritz: If I'm dressed, I'm not decent, if I'm naked, I'm not decent!

Steven Sater: I was referring to your acting ability.

Moritz: *sighs and starts prepping for his ghost act*

Steven Sater: *hands him contract* I want you dead by the beginning of Act II.

Melchior (oblivious to all else): …where the box office reflects only on sex scenes and cheesy romance, therefore every prude can be seen as a threat to the show…

Wendla: *edges up to him* OMG, Melchior! *spills her coffee on him*

Melchior: You!

Wendla: Me!

Melchior: You… what?

Wendla: I stole your diary!

Melchior: OMG, you found my diary!

Wendla: What?... Oh, look, I found your diary!

(Melchior reaches out, as if to hug her. Wendla waits expectantly as he hugs… his diary.)

Wendla: So… what a crazy random happenstance, running into you here of all places.

Melchior: Yeah, I only visit this corner, like, once every five minutes. *shrugs* It's like it's scripted.

Wendla: So…

Melchior: So…

Wendla: I was dreaming.

Melchior: Why do you always tell me about this? "Joseph and the Amazing Tacky Webber's Dream Show" is heaven's second biggest hit next to "Jesus Christ, Super Bore." Can't you wait a few scenes?

Wendla: But don't you wanna know of what?

Melchior: The latest Glee episode?

Wendla: You weren't in it!

Melchior: I know! I sat through the entire thing then started crying when I didn't see myself. It's like, who cares about you?

Wendla: I know.

Melchior: Seriously. *remembers purpose* Yeah, so, this is my dream corner, get your own.

Wendla: But my dream!

Melchior: What about it? *realizes he just gave her permission to tell it* Crap.

Wendla: I was a clumsy little girl who spilt her coffee on her costar, and when he saw what I had done, he yanked off his belt and beat me. *glances at Melchior suggestively*

Melchior: I'm not looking at the coffee.

Wendla: And not wearing a belt, I see.

(Hanschen tip toes onstage from the hayloft and hands Melchior his belt.)

Ernst: Hanschen!

Hanschen (guiltily): Girls switch flip flops with each other all the time, Ernst!

Ernst: Damn it, I'm a _girl_?

Melchior: Wendla, you're stupid. Dreams with blatant foreshadowing are only for stories!

Wendla: Martha Bessel is beaten every day.

Melchior: Exactly my point! Stories.

Wendla: She puts make-up on her arms each day, but that only makes it worse!

Melchior: 'Cause her welts are make-up! *pauses* And, seriously, who beats someone's wrist? She's probably just trying to hide her cutting.

Wendla: I look even hotter in comparison when she tells it. Lately, I can't think of anything else.

Melchior (dreamily): Me neither… oh, you were referring to the beatings. *shrugs* Complain. You're good at it.

Wendla (loudly): I've never been beaten before. *nudges closer* Did you hear that, Melchi?

Melchior: Um, yeah, this is sure… romantic…

Wendla: I can't _imagine _what it feels like! God- it must be wonderful!

Melchior: I can't imagine anyone's the better for it.

Wendla: Are you kidding? It keeps her employed! *a beat- not literally yet* I tried hitting on myself.

Melchior: Um, that's Hanschen who's narcissistic…

Wendla: Oooh! Look! A conveniently placed switch!

Melchior: I'd like to point out that it'd draw blood.

Wendla: OMG… BEAT ME, MELCHIOR!

Melchior: You?

Wendla: Me!

Melchior: Okay!

Wendla: Wait! You're supposed to be all decent and moral!

Melchior: Wendla, I strip _and _rape you.

Wendla: Just follow the script.

Melchior: I don't want to follow the script. I want to lead the script.

Wendla: You are the lead.

Melchior: Cool!

Wendla: Now beat me!

Melchior: Okay!

Wendla: Melchi!

Melchior: I mean, you're not supposed to take the "Word of Your Body" lyrics literally. What are you thinking?

Wendla: Nothing.

Melchior:… valid point. But I could never beat you!

Wendla: Why not?

Melchior: Because I'd use it as an excuse to kill you.

Wendla: If I let you?

Melchior: Let me kill you? You already do.

Wendla: If I asked?

Melchior: Have you lost your mind?

Wendla: I had one to begin with? Come on, for Martha!

Melchior: I don't even know who Martha is! And plus, why do you envy her?

Wendla: She has a solo verse!

Melchior: You have a solo, like, every other song!

Wendla: She gets beaten!

Melchior: Yeah, well, you don't have to rub it in… I mean, that's not a good thing!

Wendla: But I've never been beaten in my entire life!

Melchior: This is really getting repetitive.

Wendla: I'VE NEVER FELT ANYTHING!

Melchior: Look, can I just rape you and be done with it?

Wendla: Please, Melchior? Will you beat me?

Melchior: Finally you ask! Seriously, "please" is like a foreign language these days… *gets ready to beat her*

Wendla (shouting): I don't feel a thing!

Melchior: That's 'cause I haven't started yet!

Wendla: Must be the cloth blocking my legs. Can I strip?

Melchior: Wendla, I haven't…

Wendla: I still can't feel anything!

Melchior: Can you sto…?

Wendla: Nope!

Melchior: It's 'cause I haven't… God, screw acting! *beats her*

Wendla: *sobs* It hurts!

Melchior: Duh!

Wendla: You ruined my mascara! *glares* I'll beat the hell out of you, bitch!

Melchior: Hey, that's _my _diary you're reading off of!

Wendla: *snatches it* I have it hostage!

Melchior (horrified): *gasps* NOOOOO! *runs offstage* WHAT HAVE I DONE?

(Melchior starts sobbing loudly. Wendla stops pretending to cry and starts reading his diary, before realizing she doesn't understand a word. She figures it's upside down and flips it around. She still can't understand of a word of it, so she figures it must be in a foreign language.)

Hanschen (offstage): Yeah, "Intellect."

Wendla: *sighs* Too bad I only speak American…

(Moritz wanders onstage, having gotten lost yet again. For no apparent reason, Otto and Georg are hanging out by the band.)

Otto: I get a line!

Georg: Why the hell are we the ones singing this?

Otto: I get another line!

Georg: Is my entire point in the play to be horny and get raped?

Ilse (offstage): Hey! That's my part!

Martha (offstage): That's my part!

Melchior (between sobs): That's my part!

Wendla: Well, is there anyone whose part it's not?

(Silence.)

Otto: Hey, I get another…

Georg: Well, now we know why they cut all your lines…

Otto (to Wendla):

Oh! You're gonna be woozy.

Such a dumb, dumb, thing to do.

Georg and Otto:

Oh, time to pursue him.

How much will we sing this tune?

Moritz: *coughs* Um, Dad…?

Herr Stiefel: You never talk to me unless you're going to die.

Moritz: Yeah, about that, say you, hypothetically, had a hypothetical child…

Herr Stiefel: Oh, I always tell myself that. You were fired, weren't you?

Moritz: Um… not literally…

Herr Stiefel: YOU PIECE OF CRAP! YOUR NONEXISTENT MOTHER WILL NEVER SHOW HER FACE! I WILL NEVER BE SEEN WITH YOU AGAIN! I…YOU…I… FIRED…My son…Fired… *takes his gun out Moritz's pocket then hands it to Moritz again* Go shoot yourself.

Moritz: Whoa, we agree on something for once?

**

* * *

Poor Moritz… his angst scene comes next. Maybe I should clarify that, practically every scene he's in is an angst scene… With exams coming up, I may or may not be able to post next week, but I will be sure to post something on one of my other stories if I don't get to this one, though I'm hoping I will. :D Reviews won't affect my posting, but they certainly affect the quality of the work.**


	10. And Now I Am Done!

**Disclaimer: **I have trouble believing any of you are dense enough to mistake my work for the genius of Duncan Sheik and Frank Wedekind.

**Notes: **Again, I was extremely impressed at the amazing reviews- and at the number of people who caught the Dr. Horrible reference without me even pointing it out! Just finished watching it again, actually. Anyway, I hurried to get this done despite upcoming exams, so I hope its quality matches the others'… Reviews would really help me right now!

**Scene Ten: And Now I Am Done!**

Michael Mayer: Okay, role call, people! Anyone missing?

(Moritz's hairdo is conspicuously absent from the crowd.)

Michael Mayer: Alright, everyone's here. You can go.

Melchior: *raises hand* Where's Moritz?

Everyone: Um…

Moritz (from stage right): *waving gun* I'm right here, guys!

Michael Mayer: Of course, Moritz is missing just as the show is starting…

Hanschen: Whatever. Let's just start without him. It's not like he matters.

Moritz: But I'm right…!

Michael Mayer: SHUT UP, JOHN! *turns to Hanschen* Yeah. Wherever he is, I'm sure his body'll turn up somewhere.

Melchior (hurt): I dressed up for him…

Wendla: MELCHI! *hugs him* Wow, those are the realest-looking skin-colored pants I've ever seen…

(They all wander offstage, save for Frau Gabor, who pulls out her cell phone and checks for texts.)

Frau Gabor: "hey buddy, running away to "American Idiot," im gonna shoot myself, gimme $ for my funeral, thnx, from John?"

(Angsty music starts as Frau Gabor sighs and begins replying with her quill pen and iPad. Miraculously, Moritz already holds a print-out to what appears to the longest text ever.)

Frau Gabor: Dear Herr Gallagher- John, I've spent the past five seconds thinking of you. Truly, I have. Well, okay, three. I was mildly disappointed to find you think of me merely as a "buddy." Of course, I was saddened to receive your death notice for Act II- and yet I feel to need to point out, I find it utterly unrealistic for you to be distributing invitations to your own funeral. Of course, you must be under stress- I'll just pay it no heed. *clears throat* Still, I must say, fleeing to "American Idiot" is hardly a solution- you're still suicidal, and plus, it sucks! As for fleeing to America- that is simply not an option! You're already in America, for Pete's sake. And, even if it were an option, you wouldn't need my money to step out of the theatre and be homeless. And even if you did desperately need my money, you know what my paycheck is. Seriously, just because I'm an adult and get paid ten times more than you doesn't make Broadway tickets any cheaper…

(Moritz finally gets sick of her rant and interrupts.)

Moritz:

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well, fine.

Not like I'm even worth the lines.

But still, you know-

They all want porn.

Sorry, that won't change-

You'll have to mourn.

Frau Gabor: Still, just because I'm condemning you to death doesn't mean I hate you. On the contrary, as Melchior's mother, I have been forced to hide my feelings of affection. In fact, I consider it my duty to fill in these momentary lapses in your song…

Moritz:

I sing, "Life sucks!"

Hooray for me!

A thousand bucks a month-

Poor me!

And I say, "Please, that's all I need."

Get real, who'd pay to watch that Melchior?

Frau Gabor: If it makes you feel better, I'll write to your parents about your utter failure and tell them, "It's your son, Moritz- what else could you possibly expect from him?" I will tell them of all the hours you spent at my house with Melchior, claiming you had already studied, and will try to warn them that utter condemnation could have the _GRAVE_est possible consequences- like, for example, suicide. No promises, though.

Moritz:

It's just a draft,

You're hardly heard.

You're sorta daft,

But not a nerd.

You get to crash,

Not burn like Melchior.

Frau Gabor: Still, one thing in your letter had me a bit concerned… Or maybe it was hard to discern… Well, it mighta entered my subconscious for a millisecond… Nah, I don't even remember what it was. *glances at text* Ah, yes! The blatant foreshadowing of your suicide in Act II! It disturbed me that you would joke about suicide! For now, I will utterly disregard your blasphemy, but remember: what goes around comes around. So, if you find yourself committing suicide anytime soon, don't come crying to me for help, because I certainly warned you.

Moritz:  
Okay, so now we start the play.

Act like "oh so scared," no way.

They'll write those blokes- like, each day.

Fame, that's how it goes.

Frau Gabor: You must remember, there are hundreds- or some… well, maybe some sort of bacteria species- like you who have somehow managed to be born yet fail at life. My dear… thing, the world is a polluted, spinning ball of child molesters, and criminals, and rapists who have done rather terrible things and yet have still received heroic acclaim for them. Take some of our popes, for example…

Moritz:

A week to go,

I know my lines.

I sell my soul,

Then killing time.

Will I quit?

I will, like every show.

I'm not unknown, not anymore,

Not like I so was before.

Still the critics pen, like, "Johnny blows...

He blows... He blows..."

Frau Gabor: Let me assure you, your unfortunate situation will have no effect whatsoever on our seemingly nonexistent relationship, save for the fact that I will never interact with you ever again. Same goes for my son, Melchior.

(Just to blow off Ernst, Hanschen joins Moritz despite the fact he hates him.)

Moritz and Hanschen:  
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well, fine.

Not like we're even worth the lines.

But still, you know-

They all want porn.

Hanschen:

Hey, Ernst, that's us babe!

Moritz (praying):

Kill me before.

(The others crowd around the letter.)

Georg: *grabs it triumphantly* My piano teacher touched this!

Hanschen: Ewww…

Otto: *rolls eyes* Yeah, like postcards are so much better.

Georg: She probably breathed on it!

Moritz: Guys! I'm angsting!

Hanschen: Wait, you're not dead yet?

Moritz: *pretends to shoot himself*

Otto: *glances at script* You know, I really do have no point. Why am I singing this? Why am I even in this at all?

Hanschen: For the babes, baby.

Ernst: Um, Hanschen?

Hanschen: You count.

Ernst: *tries to figure out if Hanschen is gay or not*

Moritz and Otto:

You're just like trash.

Otto:

I'm hardly heard!

Moritz:

You're there for half

Then go berserk.

Otto:

You make the cash, then burn!

Moritz:

Right through the floor.

Moritz and Ernst:

Your start to fame

Will start to die.

You end your run

With suicide.

Georg:

You have to stumble up,

Curse Frau Gabor.

Frau Gabor: So stay high, Herr Gallagher- yes, might as well get drunk in the snow and talk to imaginary angels. See you at your funeral! Until you die, I am reluctantly and only metaphorically yours, Christine Estabrook.

Moritz:

I suck! Well- right?

(Hanschen nods emphatically.)

Moritz:

Enough. That's it!

I'll sing a song that's not a hit.

Another play, I'll stutter, "Shit!"

And I've got a gun.

*waves gun in air*

Moritz and Otto:

And then he will run!

Moritz, Otto, and Georg:

And then he'll be gone!

Moritz and Boys:

And now we are done!

Everyone: Thank God.

Moritz: Don't they know that suicide notes are rhetorical? *sniffles* I'm kinda scared to kill myself. What if I die? And, and I have stage fright! *runs away sobbing*

Melchior: *dozing and awakening* Wait a sec, what just happened? *glances down* What the hell am I doing on a platform, and why are you guys all staring at me?

Ernst: Wait, does "and then there were none" mean we should all leave stage?

Hanschen: No, Ernst, we're supposed to watch him have sex!

Ernst: *starts leaving*

Hanschen: That wasn't sarcastic.

**

* * *

Okay, weak ending, but it's late… Next up, it's opening night! Until then, I'd love reviews for exam week. :D Or for Moritz. Or just Moritz, period, I'll take him too.**


	11. Opening Night

**Disclaimer: **Who knows?

**Notes: **Thank you everyone who reviewed, I'm happy to report I survived the week and still managed to pump out an update, though it's short and not quite as entertaining as usual. (But I didn't really have much to work with, seeing as it's a two minute song with no dialogue.) I'm thinking about updating more frequently now that I'm able to, but I did like having a regular schedule… so any thoughts on the matter would be appreciated. On another note, I've changed/am in the process of changing the earlier chapters so that the actual play hasn't started yet. Any audience interaction has been early press showings, etc. Other than that… enjoy (and review, please)!

**Scene Eleven: Opening Night**

(The boys stand there, waiting for each other to say something. Awkward silence.)

Melchior: …so, if someone comes to rape me, should I just, you know, let them?

Boys: *shrugs*

Melchior: Come on, guys, I need the immoral support.

Georg: I was wondering why we were here.

Melchior: …I'm angsty again.

(As if on cue, the blue lights come on, and the boys surround him.)

Otto: Look! The spotlight's blue!

Boys:

Flip on a switch.

Say "Everyone, mikes."

No more blips can be sung

On the opening night.

Half-naked, soon Wendla

Peers through the blinds,

Disappears from our view

On the opening night.

Melchior:

But there's nowhere to hide

My torso from their sight.

No joke, time to bide,

They've got cameras they hide.

When I take off my clothes,

It's like I'm being sold.

Soon she'll walk on the scene,

And impede my solo.

Boys:

And you'll kiss her in fear

Of killing your pride;

You still play through

For the thick bill in sight.

You'll sin, hit, and do it

To linger in light,

And improve your pop hit;

You'll be truly a find.

Melchior:

But there's nowhere to hide;

I must boast my behind

To dolls, hotties, crones,

Every man, every child.

And there's no one who knows

How I'm so scared to show.

There's no one to see

Who can see through my role!

Hanschen (muttering): Is he seriously complaining about having to rape Wendla?

Ernst (randomly): You know, I auditioned for Wendla.

Hanschen:… so am I gay, or not?

(Wendla bursts on stage, interrupting Melchior's dramatic moment.)

Wendla: MELCHI GABOR, I HAVE YOUR DIARY!

Melchior (shouts): Moritz, wanna lend me your gun?

Wendla: Oh. Sorry. Did I impede your solo?

Melchior: *throws arms up in air* Seriously, what is up with all this blatant foreshadowing?

**

* * *

Short chapter, I know, but the conversation seemed to work better in the next scene, which we've all been waiting for… hopefully I do it justice…**


	12. She'll Conceive

**Disclaimer: **Maybe that's the reason I use a penname…

**Notes: **I am extremely anxious to hear what you think of this scene, seeing as we're dealing with sensitive matter, like in "Dark I Know Well." Since the musical makes Wendla's rape more consensual, I feel it's an entirely different matter than Martha's rape, however I still tried to be cautious- so, I put twist on it that's consistent with the parody *evil grin* Do I need to warn about adult content? (Though, in my opinion, this chapter's actually rather tame compared to "Touch Me" and such.) Since they repeat the same thing over and over with the song and there's only a limited number of words that rhyme with "heaven," some of the rhymes are stretching it. If they're just repeating the same thing, like in the rounds at the end, I cut them off after their original verses are over.

Also, I'm considering doing an intermission chapter. Anyone interested? I need ten reviews/review requests…

**Scene Twelve: She'll Conceive**

(Melchior and Wendla stare at each other for a moment, speechless. In the background, stagehands are bustling to their places for the show, and, aside from every minor in the entire cast, they are alone.)

Wendla: That's funny. I didn't know that haylofts floated. *a beat* Isn't it crazy how we always seem to be onstage at the same time?

Melchior: *hands her restraining order* Quit stalking me.

Wendla: But it's storming outside!

Melchior: Come on, we're inside.

Wendla: Okay! *hops on*

Melchior: I said _we're _inside, not join me!

Wendla: No. You told me to come on inside.

Melchior: Out!

Wendla: Why?

Melchior: Because you're making me want to rape you, and I really don't want to have to do that because you're more irritating than Moritz.

Wendla: Everyone else is praying offstage and rehearsing for the chorus parts. *grins* I slipped out.

Melchior: Um… brilliant? I take it everyone else is excluding the people swarming beneath us?

Wendla: *notices them* Oh, hi, are you here for the show?

Hanschen: Dunno what else we'd be here for.

Melchior: Witnesses. To testify at Court during my trial.

Wendla: Oh, yeah, your friend with the spiky hair was absent. They said he's been missing ever since they kicked him out.

Melchior: I expect he's off committing suicide somewhere.

Wendla: Most likely, judging by his suicide note. You know, I read your diary.

Melchior: You _WHAT_?

Wendla: I'm sorry, are you hard of hearing?

Melchior: I don't believe it.

Ernst (singing off-key): I believe, I believe, I bel…

Hanschen: *kisses him to shut him up*

Wendla: I was just wondering- what's sex?

Melchior: Just drop it.

Wendla: And who's Moritz?

Melchior (gritting): Please.

Wendla: Well, I didn't mean to read it. Really, I only meant to stare at the words as my eyes flickered across the pages…

(Reluctantly, she drops the diary and snuggles closer to him. Melchior eyes the edge of the hayloft, wondering if it's possible to kill yourself from a one foot fall.)

Wendla: Honestly, I don't know why you're mad at me. I don't know what I was thinking when I asked you to beat me, but that's only to be expected.

Melchior: Apology not accepted.

Wendla: But I'm not…!

Melchior: Please. Don't. Breathe so close to me.

Wendla: Sorry. *holds her breath so she can creep even closer*

Melchior: I'm sure we were just confused. I was under the impression that if I beat you hard enough, you'd finally die, and you thought… well, you really didn't, you were just being your usual self.

Wendla: Are saying it was my fault?

Melchior: Yes.

Wendla: But you hurt me!

Melchior: Yes, but still…

Wendla: Melchi, something started in me when you hit me!

Melchior: Something in me, too.

Wendla (romantically): Seething desire…

Melchior (plainly): Unadulterated loathing. *a beat* You should go.

Wendla: Please, Melchi? Won't you come offstage with me? I can't nuzzle you in the dark when there's a guy tracking us with a spotlight! Oooh, we could even get sing in the rain together. *nudges him meaningfully* I could wear my white dress.

Melchior: And you wonder where Moritz gets all his nightmares?

Wendla: *getting closer* You want me, Melchi. *seductively* _All_ of me.

(In one quick motion, she grabs him so he can't escape.)

Melchior: Oh my god, I can hear your heart beat.

Wendla: Really? How observant of you!

(She kisses him passionately. He tries to yank away.)

Melchior: Wendla! I don't know if we should be doing this!

Wendla: No matter where I am, I hear your heart beating… because I'm always with you… stalking your every move…

Melchior: Um, I think my heart's stopped beating now.

(She kisses him again.)

Melchior: Wendla, no, wait-

Wendla: For what?

Melchior: Forever.

Wendla: Why?

Melchior: Because you're not supposed to seduce me!

Wendla: We're not supposed to love? Melchior, is there such a thing as love in show biz? When each waking moment is a fierce battle of vying for parts and blackmailing producers? *a beat* I can hear your heart, Melchi, who else can do that?

Melchior: Right now? Everyone. It's so loud, people are wondering why there's a drum solo in the middle of nothing.

Wendla: Nothing? NOTHING? YOU'RE BREATHING, MELCHIOR! YOUR HEART IS BEATING! WHAT MORE CAN I SAY OR DO TO MAKE YOU LOVE ME?

Melchior: Nothing, please. Please, Wendla…

Wendla: I don't need to do anything more to love you? *grins* Okay!

(Meanwhile, from beneath them…)

Ilse: Okay, why the hell are we here?

Hanschen: *removes binoculars* Shhhh, he's going to take his pants off soon…

(Wendla starts kissing him intimately, and Melchior looks like he's being strangled…)

Ernst (ruining the moment): M-maybe we should s-sing?

(Melchior startles and ends up kissing Wendla in a place he didn't intend to.)

Hanschen: Dude, do you want me to tutor you in Act II or not?

Ernst: But, you know, for dramatic effect?

Everyone: *glancing at each other and shrugging* Why not?

Hanschen: *grins* I always enjoy rocking Melchior's boat…

Set Designer: Dude, can't you tell? It's obviously a hayloft!

Hanschen: Yeah, and also symbolically Wendla's grave in Act II, so shut up!

All Except Melchior and Wendla (AKA Chorus):

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

All will be forbidden.

Melchior: No, Wendla, this is just…

Wendla: What? Exhilerating? Romantic? Sinful?

Melchior: LAME!

Wendla: Why, Melchi? Because it's good? Because it makes you feel "something?"

Melchior: If something is "seasick," then yes.

Wendla: Melchior, we already covered this, it's a hayloft, not a boat! This is _Spring Awakening_, you know, not _The Pirate Queen_.

Melchior: For God's sake, Wendla, we're having sex in the middle of some floating platform!

Wendla: Oooh, you are brilliant!

(She forces him to the ground.)

Melchior: Damn it, I can't push a girl…

Chorus:

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

Condoms, be forgotten.

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

Then she'll go to heaven.

Melchior (to himself, under his breath): Don't be afraid, don't be afraid…

(Wendla kisses him, takes his hand, and places it on her breast.)

Melchior: Don't, it…

Wendla: What?

Melchior (wincing): It makes me feel something.

Wendla: What's that?

Melchior (meekly): Skin.

Chorus:

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

We love repetition.

Melchior: Wait!

Wendla: Quit being a sissy! It's just me!

Melchior: Exactly my point!

Wendla: What is wrong with me?

Melchior: That's what I've been asking all along!

Wendla: *starts stripping*

Melchior: Perhaps I've found an answer…

Chorus:

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

Old, is this verse gettin'.

She'll conceive, she'll conceive, she'll conceive…

Oh, she'll conceive.

Boys:

There is love in haylofts…

God, you must be kiddin'.

Their "said" love we're watchin'

As Melchi is strippin'.

Girls:

She'll conceive…

I believe.

We will grieve

When she leaves.

Boo-hoo!

Boo-hoo!

Melchior: Now, there… now, that's…

Wendla: Yes?

Melchior (growing pale): Oh, God, I think I'm gay.

Hanschen, Ernst, and Boy Stagehands: *do happy dances*

Moritz (offstage): *loses all color* He's coming for me… *dashes off with his gun*

Chorus:

Please, the boy's the victim.

Too bad she chose rhythm.

Pills, for boys, there's condoms,

Birth control forgotten.

(Wendla tugs on Melchior's belt, which makes his pants slide down his legs. The cast, all staring, collectively gasp. Then, Wendla shoves Melchior closer to her.)

Wendla: Melchior- oh!

Melchior:… you missed!

(The lights in the theatre fade, and the curtains rise…)

**

* * *

And thus the real show begins! Review if you want an intermission, but if I don't get ten requests… I'll probably take the week off. I'd REALLY love your feedback now that we're (well, technically more than) halfway through! Did you like the plot twist? Was it stupid? Is this entire thing stupid? Is there anything you'd like to see (or not see?) I am open to anything!  
**


	13. Sinners' Mission

**Disclaimer: **I don't know… I kind of feel sorry for whoever owns this mess…

**Notes: **I'm currently at TEN reviews for the last chapter, which more than I expected and certainly worthy of an extra (if not as satisfying) chapter. But I tried my best. The first song I parodied is a medley of "Confession" from Bare: A Pop Opera (most neglected musical of the century) and "Rent" from RENT. "Confession" cuts off after the music crescendos, and "Rent" begins with Joanne's lines, then cuts to "How do you leave the past behind?" The second song is part of "Time" from the London intermission of Avenue Q (I'm really unfamiliar with Avenue Q, but when I remembered this song, I couldn't resist. You'll see why.) It starts at the sing-along part.

Since writing this has been so much fun, I'm considering parodying the book and lyrics of another musical. The only problem is: I don't know which one. In a poll on my profile, I listed the six musicals (or musical shows, hint, hint) I feel familiar with enough to parody. The poll results will have an impact on my choice, however I'll make the final call. So, please, go vote! If the choice you want isn't up there, vote for your favorite one up there and then PM me with your preference, I will definitely take those into account too.

Here's yet another bribe: Right now, I have 78 reviews- which is more than I ever thought I'd get for a twelve chapter fic, I'm so continually amazed by all of you. But if we can get that number up to at least (more is great too) 150 by the finale, I'll do a special curtain call chapter- yes, total bribery. I am a guilty one. I thought writing this would make it obvious.

And to finish off, I'd like to thank ALL of my reviewers, so I'm listing them here by category. If your name's not on here, you still have a chance to get it on for the finale!

The Melchiors:

The Ones Who Rocked the Boat:

Who Reviewed EVERY CHAPTER (or almost):

Chalcedony Rivers

melchiorgabor

Shally-wa

xXx

The Hanschens:

The Ones Who Let the System Work for Them:

Who Reviewed More Than Once:

Princesshannah12345

musicallover786

iNvIsIbLe GiRl 12

papergirl815

Katey-Michelle

Apathyisdeath

we played pirates

fir8008

arenkun

the mean reds

egyouppt

purplesummer298

xXx

The Moritzs:

The Status Quo (I'll bite back a Dr. Horrible reference):

Who Reviewed Once:

criminally-insane-girl

waternympth13

RedCloakedMaiden

Clueless Daisy

gleek428

Hermes Liar

GraceCannon

AnnoMizuki

jadeeex

Suicidal-Pancakes

wildnose94

GleeRulesSupreme

Hanschen's Postcard

RavenWalo

I am thankful for every review. Even ones for this chapter. *grins* Thanks especially to RavenWalo, who fed my inspiration- Hanschen's "I'm in character" and the idea that the cast could interact with the audience came from her. I'd really appreciate reviews this chapter since it's not following any structure at all and is… well, strange, to put it in a good light… Choppy is a better word. I don't know how much I like it.

**Intermission: Sinners' Mission**

**AKA For Once, The Cast Get What They Want: Attention, Men, and More Guys**

(For once, they have no problem clearing the theatre, save for the occasional porn viewer. Unfortunately, so many people mob the door that the door becomes clogged, and a plumber has to be called while the entire audience is forced to endure the profanity. The curtain boys all get fired for raising the curtain at the wrong moment, since they're easier to replace than the entire cast, who haven't moved from the positions for obvious reasons.)

Duncan Sheik: *sighs* Well, _that _was the shortest showing ever.

(Hanschen and Thea finally get tired of having Wendla obstruct their perfect vision of Melchior and rebel, freeing Melchior from Wendla's grasp. Their plan backfires when Melchior hoists his pants back up and books it offstage. He spots Duncan Sheik, opens his mouth, and bursts into tears.)

Duncan Sheik: Come on, Jonathan, let's see your stage face!

(Tears streaming down his eyes, Melchior plasters the biggest and fakest grin ever on his face. Unable to maintain it, he dashes away to fetch something from the backstage refrigerator in sobs. Duncan sighs. Meanwhile, onstage, amidst the audience's rude glares…)

Ernst (whispered): What are we supposed to do?

Hanschen: Well, since it _is _Spring Awakening, probably something we're not supposed to do.

Ilse: So… improv?

Hanschen: How about we all have secret, onstage affairs with Melchi? *pumping his fist* I mean, rewrite the show! Rebel against the playwrights! Cause theatrical anarchy!

(Awkward silence.)

Ilse: Okay, which Melchior has possessed you? Jonathan? Hunter? Jake?

Hanschen: Shut up, I'm being bait!

(Meanwhile, from Wendla's hayloft…)

Wendla (bawling): S-something's kicking me from the inside…

Scout Member #1: …Lea Michele?

Wendla: *bolts up, tears gone* I can force myself to cry at will.

Scout Member #1: Um, great. Interested in starring in a musical show about singing and teenage sex?

Wendla: Sounds eerily familiar…

(A dozen eggs splatter against her.)

Wendla: NOOOOOOO! My dress killed twelve chicks! *stamps her foot* Who threw that?

Melchior (holding an empty egg carton): Not me!

Wendla: Why?

Melchior (bitterly): Because I _loved _you. *runs offstage*

Scout Member #1: Hmmm… Jonathan eggs Lea…

(Back onstage, the cast glowers in the attention they're not getting. Hanschen gets tired of being used as target practice for the audience's rotten tomatoes and decides to do something radical to draw Melchior out.)

Hanschen: *pulls out megaphone* Charge the audience!

(For dramatics, the band starts playing as they charge, getting closer, and closer until…)

Hanschen: Hit it!

(They break into song and dance, since, as minor characters, they hardly ever get to dictate the numbers.)

Onstage Cast:

We're doing crimes, intermission,

Where we finally get some attention.

We have no need for your lettuce

(Ernst spits out the produce that landed in his mouth. By now, only Martha remains un-veggied, since no one recognizes her enough to hate her.)

Onstage Cast:

Because our sins run up our business.

Thea:

I stalked my guy for ages!

Otto:

Sometimes I worry Michael.

Hanschen:

I finally nailed my boyfriend.

Ernst:

He took away my Bible.

Martha:

I think I play a whore!

Anna:

We swear, we're impolite.

Onstage Cast:

We'll sin for porn, Melchi Gabor!

We're doing crimes for attention,

Since performance seems to have ended.

We have no need to set limits

Because chorus doesn't deserve sex.

Oh, but, you'll find we're explicit!

Georg:

How does the story _me _go?

Martha:

They gave me no real closing.

Ilse:

Plenty lines of "Mama!"

Hanschen:

I don't know if I'm fairy.

Thea:

I don't think they expected

The cast to be so scary.

Onstage Cast:

Say you'll not forget me, crowd!

We're wasting time, intermission,

Cause you'll never pay us attention.

We have no need for your bullshit

Because our hit's gunning the showbiz!

Hello, our hit's gunning the showbiz!

(The music crescendos as…)

Ilse: You know what? Who cares if we don't get the attention we deserve. As long as we get the attention we want… you know…

Hanschen:

Don't change the subject, Lauren!

Ilse:

But Hanschen!

I haven't spoken all play!

I don't show up!

I just show up.

The point of this play

Isn't _true_ love, exactly.

We may just be some tiny, weeny parts,

But we light the spark!

Hanschen: You're right. The point of this play isn't Melchi Gabor.

Thea (insulted): Then what is?

Hanschen: It's creation!

Ernst: Cr-creation? What do you mean, creation?

Hanschen: *sighs* Men…

(Ernst waits for an answer.)

Hanschen: No, seriously, that's the answer. Men.

Onstage Cast:

How do you leave the past behind

When they keep finding plays, all set Ages Dark?

It teaches you to sleep,

Until you're lying down-

And who's on the top?

Men!

And they can erect while on stage,

With players…

(Hanschen pulls Ernst into a passionate kiss. A man in the audience plugs his nose and coughs loudly.)

Hanschen: Shut up, I'm in character!

Onstage Cast:

Actors…

(Anna and Georg accidentally bump into each other, and thus, the Anna/Georg ship is created.)

Onstage Cast:

Lovers…

(Ernst tries to kiss Hanschen, who shifts away awkwardly, glancing backstage along with all the other girls.)

Onstage Cast:

Their own blonde self, they date.

Hanschen: *nervous laughter*

Onstage Cast:

What binds the women together

When they're staging shifty sins and playing

Flirts the whole play?

Ilse:

Make a line by your man

For a one-night stand!

Georg:

While you're dancing, you spar!

Martha:

You're your own star.

Onstage Cast:

When they act rough,

You call them buff.

We are gonna lay

We are gonna lay

We are gonna lay with

Nasty men!

(Coincidentally, everyone's head is turned towards Hanschen.)

Onstage Cast:

Pretty men!

(Ernst is too oblivious to notice the stares he's receiving.)

Onstage Cast:

Sexy men!

(Everyone faces backstage.)

Onstage Cast:

Men, men, men, men, men!

We are gonna lay men!

'Cause everything is men!

(With a dramatic finish, they wait for the audience's reaction. They forget that they're only minor characters and that nobody cares about them.)

Man in the Audience (shouting): Come on, let's go see something appropriate: RENT!

Ilse (sighing):

Well, maybe, next year,

Or when?

Ernst: Wait a second, where did Hanschen go?

Georg: I dunno, bathroom maybe?

Ernst: Oh *shrugs* Okay.

(Everyone walks off before doing a double take as they realize the hidden implication. True to his nature, Hanschen is locked away in a bathroom stall, staring at a postcard.)

Man in Bathroom: Excuse me, sir, but how long do you plan to be in there?

Hanschen: One minute!

Man in Bathroom #2: What could possibly be taking you so long in there?

Hanschen: I wouldn't ask that question, if I were you.

Man in Bathroom #3: That's it, I'm gonna go garb in drag and use the ladies' restroom.

Hanschen (from stall): You know what I think is the most important thing in the world?

Hanschen:

Guys…

To do the things you want them to do.

Guys…

They're well spent if they're spent on you.

'Cause those flowers get me high,

Oh, they're gonna want to cry

Once I take a few to spend and use.

Encore! We'll lie!

Oh, I'm laying with guys!

(Meanwhile, backstage…)

Melchior (shouting): Okay, who ordered a bunch of postcards with my face on them?

Moritz (meekly): Melchi…

Melchior (jumping): Moritz!

Moritz: The audience keeps throwing stuff at me.

Melchior: That's okay, I've been tomatoed a few times myself.

Moritz: They keep throwing roses.

Melchior: What? How come I don't get roses?

Moritz: I pricked my finger on one of the thorns hoping I'd bleed to death.

Melchior: And?

Moritz: I found out I'm not hemophilic. I couldn't rest in peace anyway, since your diary gave me nightmares.

Melchior (seductively): Need help sleeping?

(He doesn't wait for an answer. On the other side of the room, Wendla barges in and confronts Duncan Sheik.)

Wendla: You have to kill me off halfway through Act II so I can go star in this show about singing and teenage sex.

Duncan Sheik: But how is that any different from your current situation?

Wendla (smugly): _Glee _pays me in mattresses… _and _gives me free slushy facials each day!

(She walks off.)

Duncan Sheik: Well, we've just about hit rock bottom… and who keeps rehearsing "Touch Me?"

Melchior: Rehearsing, sir?

(Duncan turns to find Moritz locked in a tight embrace with Melchior, whose pants are once again MIA. Horrified, Moritz yanks away, grabbing his gun and running for his life- or, death, if you will. Melchior stares emptily at the space before grabbing a postcard of himself and going to see what the back-up is in the bathroom.)

Duncan Sheik: Okay, now we've hit rock bottom.

(His cell phone, which was supposed to be off since he's in a theatre, rings. He answers.)

Duncan Sheik: Hello? Kyle Jarrow? Uh-huh. _Whisper House_? Haunted lighthouses? Alright. *snaps phone shut* This is going to be my claim to fame!

**

* * *

Please remember to vote for my (potential) next parody! (Reviewing goes without saying, I hope.) Hopefully this wasn't a terribly lame flop? And if it was, tell me, I already have bad feeling about it , so it won't hurt my feelings. Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats- and remember to bring your towels!- for Act II! (Yes, lame Hitchhiker's reference.) *goes and hides with Martha***


	14. The Killing One

**Disclaimer: **Well, I understand how you might mistake my brilliance for… never mind.

**Notes: **I have to thank all of you that reviewed- I probably broke my record for most reviews, and moreover, the reception was good! So, that's encouraging. Remember to vote at the poll if you haven't already. Otherwise, here's the Act II opener- The Guilty Ones! (Yes, I am going in the order of the show, not the soundtrack. It makes more sense.)

**Scene One: The Killing One**

(Everyone's supposed to be gathered under Duncan Sheik's watchful gaze. Thus, no one is. He, however, doesn't seem to notice.)

Duncan Sheik: Let us look today, actors, to Act II, an act most anticipated by the patrons of Broadway. *glares* Yes, people, _Broadway_. The media reported that "the audience simply couldn't leave," and the patrons took it in the less than literal sense. And we must thank God for that. So, it looks like I'm stuck with you lot.

Cast: *groans*

Duncan Sheik: *shakes his head* Where's the gratitude? I practically created you! And yet, to your modern ear, I'm just… quaint.

Hanschen: Um, I believe the word Melchi used was "a presumptuous, tyrannical bastard."

Duncan Sheik: Yes, well, I haven't got my dictionary on me. *clears his throat* So, as we rehearse for the big day, remember this in your dark hearts: in what ways have you conquered _and_ dishonored your playwright? In what ways have you strayed from the wise destruction of your lyricist, your director?

(The cast looks suspiciously towards the lower half of Melchior's body.)

Melchior: *raises hand* That's rhetorical, right?

(In response, Wendla rolls over, accidentally-on-purpose propelling herself into Melchior's arms.)

Wendla: OMG, Melchi, we slept through church!

Melchior: *yawns* No biggie.

Wendla: No, Melchi- we _slept _through church!

Duncan Sheik: Excuse me, are you two listening?

Both: No.

Duncan Sheik: Humph.

(As if hit by a dysfunctional Freeze Ray, Melchior begins to freeze in place.)

Melchior: Wendla… are you… okay….

(He freezes in place. Wendla steals the spotlight.)

Wendla:

Something started racy.

He'd be my own.

Somehow I sleep

Through the talks of the Sheik.

How I'm naughty to the bone.

Wendla and Cast:

And true, I play the scene's star.

Wendla:

Take me each night, we'll be Hollywood fads.

Wendla and Cast:

And who can say who'll be stars?

Wendla:

And that is the reason for singing.

And now our Broadway is the killing one.

You'll watch- you'll shudder and cry.

The sight will bring

Old ones' screams.

All still smile at Wendla's cry.

(Since it's Dr. Horrible's handiwork, after all, the Freeze Ray effects begin to wear off. Melchior, drowsily recovering from being frozen, joins deliriously, thinking that he wants this hot radical for himself.)

Wendla and Melchior:

Her mister's one hell of a guy.

Screw me too.

(Melchior's heart starts beating again, so Wendla takes that as a sign to answer his question.)

Wendla: Oh, it was to die for!

(Dramatically, she's hit as well, freezing in a theatrical pose.)

Melchior (still finishing his question):… with me being gay?

(Seeing she's not only not listening but also not dead yet, he sighs.)

Melchior (bittersweet):

So, that's entertaining…

All getting parts.

And though I sin, show

Or die! Who will sue you?

The grave comes soon, but you're stars.

Melchior and Cast:

Yeah, you can say we'll go far.

Melchior and Boys:

Make me a rhyme that I'll shout when they scold.

Melchior and Cast:

And soon, each day, butts ajar!

Well, what is the treason in scheming?

(The cast starts gathering around the lovers with sullen faces because the two both seem to be fully dressed.)

Cast:

And now our Broadway is the killing one.

Our butts, birth pills, risky cowards.

Music starts,

Broken hearts

Will squirm, her love loses, she'll die.

Her mister's a hell of a guy.

Screw me too.

And now our Broadway is the killing one

We're sluts, we've colorful songs.

Soon, we'll grieve, oh, how we

Fell, with vile sex, from so high!

We're victims, they sell us, you buy.

Screw it, boo-hoo!

Duncan Sheik (still unaware that no one is listening): Ah, but actors! Children! What have secrets have we openly displayed onstage, hidden only from ourselves? What contracts have we signed with the devil? *realizing that, contractwise, he would be the devil, he glares* How have we _lied_?

Cast:

And now our Broadway is the killing one…

(Symbolically, Moritz, the Broadway's next victim, leaps onstage, determined to show his worth in one final showdown.)

Moritz: I'm buff!

(Confusing him for a porcupine, the cast scatters.)

**

* * *

And next, the double song chapter that Moritz has been waiting for, if he can only remember his lyrics… Moritz's last showing… or can he be saved by your reviews? *vanishes mysteriously***


	15. Don't Do Smash Hits and Youths' Sins

**Disclaimer: **Not even the computer is mine. Just the brilliant creativity.

**Notes: **Again, I'd like to point out that I do NOT promote suicide (or rape). To prove so, I've even put a bit of a twist on it… now you have to read on. The Ilse/Moritz dialogue was surprisingly hard, possibly because her Bohemians don't really exist in the play and therefore can't be parodied. I don't know. Tell me what you think/what worked! Since it's a duet, I split the ending lines at the end of verses. Also, inexact rhyming a use for "summer" and the word I use- but they're close enough and make much more sense than anything else that rhymed.

On another note: no one has brought this up yet, but I know there's been some nonsense going around about how Jonathan Groff isn't acting straight enough on GLEE and how gay actors can't play straight. One, I think that's ridiculous (go Kristen Chenoweth for telling them off!), and two, I am NOT making Melchior gay because I think Jonathan Groff acts gay. I think he plays Melchior perfectly straight. I'm making Melchior (not Groff) _bisexualish_ because it exaggerates Melchior's "sleeping problem," adds a bit of the actor to the character, and plus, I believe, Melchior/Moritz is somewhat canon in Wedekind's version. ("I think you may be closer to me than all the living?" "Thanks, dear heart!" Lots of evidence.) Anyway, enough about Melchi- it's Moritz's turn to crash and burn!

Oh yes- and if you want more of Moritz crashing and burning, try my fic, "Or More Like Your Ghost…" yes, I am shameless. How else could I write this?

**Scene Two: Don't Do Smash Hits/Youths' Sins**

(Desperate, Moritz stomps his foot.)

Moritz: I'm buff, I'm buff….!

Duncan Sheik: Enough! I've given up on you, John.

Moritz: That makes two of us.

Duncan Sheik: Glad we're in agreement. *waves him off* Now go practice your garage band gig somewhere else; you simply can't do smash hits.

(He walks offstage. Officially broken, Moritz grabs the microphone and starts angsting away, only to realize he's so unsuited for the job, he's forgotten his most important lyrics. Fed up, he goes OOC, which in his case, is quite in character- and insane.)

Moritz:

Awful bleeped

To be the little gutless guy.

Just angsting while you sing,

Just clinging on the ride.

Just a showing, showing, child,

It's true, you know.

No banging but you're gonna die,

They're quoting about you!

A baby, fool, you really bit the dumping bin.

Just once through everything,

And then you die again!

With a fake stage gun in your mouth each play,

But no need to pull.

In darkness,

You just sail offstage.

'Cause you know

I don't do smash hits!

(He slams the microphone to the ground to prove his point: he is insane. Unfortunately, he contradicts himself: he can do smash hits, when it comes to microphones.)

Moritz:

Well, maybe, a little bit.

Just don't need to get a life,

Don't want any part in this.

I don't do smash hits!

Hey, I've done my crime,

Lurking behind them all,

I'll just blow my mind.

I don't do smash hits,

They can swear.

Don't do smash hits,

I don't dare…

Ilse: Boo! *pops head onstage* Moritz Stiefel?

Moritz: Gah! The ghost of summers past! *whimpers* Ghosts frighten me.

Hanschen (offstage): Then why the hell are you so eager to become one?

Moritz: *shrugs* You can't get ghosts pregnant.

Wendla (offstage): Oh, you have no idea…

Ilse: Hey, is that a gun in your hand?

Moritz (muttered): _Damn it. _Um… *chucks it behind himself* No.

Ilse: Oh. *shrugs* Okay! Whatcha doing?

Moritz: Killing myself.

Ilse: But what have you lost?

Moritz: The will to live.

Ilse: Then what are you even looking for?

Moritz: *shrugs* Dunno.

Ilse: Sex? *walks closer* Legs? *whispered* Mine are _bare_. So, what is it? Tell me!

Moritz: Um, a half-naked girl who flourishes with life yet brings death.

Ilse (flirtatiously): Ha! I knew you were straight! *hugs the air in front of her, not being able to face Moritz*

Moritz (awkwardly): Well, I was kinda referring to Wendla… So… where are you, anyway? I can't seem to see you.

Ilse: Oh, I just came from backstage! You know- where those artists gather.

Moritz: *shudders* I know! Melchi draws such morbid, uncanny pictures.

Ilse: I know, he used me as a model!

Wendla (offstage): COME ON! YOU DON'T EVEN NEED TO LIFT MY DRESS TO SEE!

Ilse: All those horny boys, Moritz. So wild, so… Bohemian.

Georg (offstage): Um, I don't star as Mark Cohen until 2010, thank you.

Ilse: Seriously, all they want to do is put me in a see through shirt and photograph me! That Melchior, he's a wicked one, actually.

Moritz: *rolls eyes* Tell me about it.

Ilse: Knocking up girls, then chasing them in graveyards- and then NOT sticking with them!

Moritz: *covering ears* I was being sarcastic!

Ilse: Sorry. You know, I'm drunk, Moritz.

Moritz: Well, that explains the bad hair day and terrible taste in clothes.

Ilse: Seriously, why not? I just lie around, all show, all night, anyway. *glares* And then, I have to room with Hanschen, and boy, is that… rather exposing.

Ernst (offstage, dreamily): Sounds like.

Ilse: It's the only reason I get enough sleep at night! Then, every morning, he wakes me up, with his orgasmic yelps. "One minute, then it's the end!" *rolls eyes* We're on a first name basis with the plumber.

Moritz: Now I understand why you're homeless.

Ilse: Yeah. He has _serious _sexuality problems.

Hanschen (offstage): Hey, toilets don't have genders!

Ilse (off Moritz's reaction): I know. Really gives me the goosebumps. But really Moritz, enough about me- you still have that crush on me?

Moritz: Well… this scene, then I'm through.

Ilse: God, you remember how we used to run through our lines together?

Moritz (confused): I'm God?

Melchior (on phone with Hanschen): What do you mean, I don't believe Moritz exists?

Ilse: You remember, Moritz? Wendla Bergman, Melchior Gabor, you and I?

Moritz: How could I? We've never even interacted before now.

Ilse: All those rehearsals? *gets closer* All those sins?

(One of the male stagehands centers the spotlight on Ilse to see if her shirt is see-through. Ilse mistakes it for the sun and thinks it's summer again. She gets nostalgic about the summer rehearsals.)

Ilse:

Bring the bleeper, every single play.

Youths' sins are such fads,

Going from the sick porn,

To the tales of lays,

To the open looks of his ass.

Bring the bleeper.

Sure, you've hit bottom.

Sins always want to creep up and haunt you.

Cause it's Broadway.

Well, it's heartache but tomorrow,

Sinners will sing and not die.

Bring the bleeper, every single play!

Youths' sins get such fame,

Dough from all the thick crowds,

All the sales today.

Dude, we're gonna drive them insane.

Bring the bleeper.

(The spotlight fades.)

Ilse: Well, that was the shortest summer ever. Global warming- ha!

Moritz: Um, yeah… I'd better go.

Ilse: No! Sing one duet with me!

Moritz: And?

Ilse: We'll dig up memories from the past, put on a play together- just like we used to.

Moritz: We did have some remarkable times. Me hiding in that closet…

Melchior (offstage): I KNEW IT!

Ilse: I can brush your hair, and curl it, and dye it pink, and…

Moritz: This is supposed to convince me?

Ilse: We can play horses! *grins* I'll be the mare!

Moritz: Um, I really wish I could.

Ilse: Well, why can't you?

Moritz: Because I was born! Human.

Ilse: So? You can't blame yourself for that! Come on- sing with me!

Moritz: I can't.

Ilse: Why, Moritz? Why?

Moritz (spurting): Eighty nights of Playboy, the 23rd chromosome, a case of Laryngitis.

Ilse: SING MY ANGEL OF MUSIC! OUR STRANGE DUET!

(The spotlight pops on again, so Moritz assumes he's under some spell and decides to comply.)

Moritz:

Some baby, I should blow my mind another time.

Just bang! They'll sing for me,

And I will finally die!

You just wait with a gun 'til the matinée and then see

My gun between my teeth!

The people cry and swoon!

But you'll know-

Ilse:

Bring the bleeper, every single play!

Youths' sins really cost,

No more room, the theatre's

All sold out today.

Moritz:

I don't so smash hits!

The grievin', acquittal bit.

Just won't lead a sin-filled life,

Don't want to be Bart Simpson.

Ilse:

Bring the bleeper, while you watch the play!

Youths sin 'cause they're bossed,

Growing through the quick course

Of the fatal play.

You go wandering, crowds will lust.

Bring the bleeper.

Moritz:

I won't do smash hits!

Yay, I've sung my lines,

Took my sack, meant to bawl.

Man, I know I pined…

But no more smash hits,

Notes, or hair.

Don't do smash hits,

Lust, or mares…

(The music dies. Thus, Moritz wishes he were the music.)

Moritz: There's the cue. Time to say good-bye.

Ilse: _Good-bye_?

Moritz: Yeah. *starts waving*

Ilse: But don't you think I'm hot?

Moritz: All the more reason to hang out by the fans. I have to kill myself, remember?

Ilse: But, just one duet!

Moritz: Are you deaf?

Ilse: Are you? Just walk me offstage. Make Martha jealous.

Moritz: Honestly, I wish I could. But I'm just not handsome enough to.

Ilse: Fine. You're not. You know, before any scout notices me, I'll be singing at some slutty night club. *chucks her flowers at him* Use them for your funeral, jerk!

(She dashes offstage, sobbing. Moritz finally glances to his side only to find she's gone.)

Moritz (shouting): I will! Thanks! *turning* For the love of Ilse, all I had to do was say "#&$ me!" And it'd be in character too… Ilse? Ilse?

Ilse: *dashes onstage, make-up reapplied* Yes?

Moritz: These mikes must really pick up everything. Seriously, I must be in a vacuum when I shoot the gun…Wait a sec, you weren't a hallucination?

Ilse (wailing): I knew you didn't know I existed! *runs away again*

Moritz: COME BACK, I'M AFRAID OF THE DARK!

(On cue, all the spotlights in the theatre are centered on him.)

Moritz: *sighs* So, what should I say? A really long monologue about mares, rivers, and whipping cream? No… Well, I want to get into heaven, so I'll tell the angels I got drunk in the snow. And that I was a pirate- you know, who raided people's stuff and killed people. _That _should win them over. Ilse did call me an angel, after all. I can be an angel, I think. I mean, Melchi wouldn't mind if I were a girl. Or, I could just join the cast of American Idiot- I'm better suited for the title role.

(Silence. He picks up the flowers.)

Moritz: It's not my teddy bear, but they'll have to do. Okay, I'm ready now. God, just ten minutes ago, you could see the entire cast! Now, it's just me. *sniffs* I can see a light; I must be about to die.

(Silence.)

Moritz: Any time now.

(Silence.)

Moritz: God, can't I just kill myself in peace? It's so light, with the spotlights on me and all, and the WHOLE ENTIRE THEATRE looking at me. *whimpers* So light. *glances at his pants* So _tight_.

(Unable to find appropriate last words, finally, he decides to follow Nike's advice and "Just Do it!")

Moritz: Oh, Hark! *having said his last prayer to his favorite angel, he sticks gun in his mouth* _Click. Click._

(Realization dawns on his face.)

Moritz (with gun in mouth): Damn it. It's a prop! *pulls it out* ARE YOU SERIOUS?

(He runs offstage, sobbing at his inability to kill himself. Unfortunately, the cast members were about to practice the "Left Behind" scene, so he trips and falls in his coffin, which the stage crew slam shut on cue. That's the last they see of him.)

**

* * *

Poor Moritz. Death literally was a step away (or awry, in his case). He appreciates eulogies (AKA reviews!)**


	16. Right Ahead

**Disclaimer: **If "Spring Awakening" was mine, Moritz wouldn't end up dead, he'd end up traveling 120 years in the future and meeting a certain girl who looks a lot like me…

**Notes: **Being a funeral, this is more of a solemn scene, and the humor seems a bit out of place. Lots of you asked for explanation about Moritz's death. Well, the first part is made up of the actors' explanations. Believe them if you dare. Is Moritz really dead? Is he a ghost? Is he completely alive (but less than well)? Read on to find out. Also note that I broke from my rhyming with the titles trend and decided to do an inversion of the title. So everything rhymes with "Right Ahead" instead of left behind.

**Scene Three: Right Ahead**

(A single rose is cast in the spotlight as everything else is engulfed in darkness. A single instrument begins playing through the darkness, as everyone takes in the symbolism, that… well, whatever it's supposed to symbolize…)

Prop's Manager: *glancing at script* Wait a sec, this isn't "Beauty and the Beast…"

Wendla: Oooh, lookie! For me! *snatches it*

(The entire cast gathers onstage, chatting amongst themselves.)

Hanschen (glances at script): Mourning for Moritz? You know, I really can't seem to get in character for this scene.

(They wait for Moritz's usual complaint about how _he _can't get in character.)

Hanschen: Well, I'll be it, he actually succeeded!

Melchior: Yeah, where is Moritz?

Duncan Sheik (guiltily): Um… dunno.

Steven Sater (fidgeting): Well, technically, he's supposed to be dead, so, you know, if he is…

Wendla (from stage right): OH MY GOD!

Thea: *rolls her eyes* What's wrong now?

Wendla:…nothing's wrong… *grins wickedly, glancing at Melchior*

Melchior: Uh-oh…

Wendla: He's dead! Moritz is dead!

Hanschen (blurting): Great! *clears throat* I mean, _great_…

Melchior: Um, Wendla, that's just a script.

Thea (glancing): Oh, not just a script… *squeals* It's _your _script!

Melchior (sputtering): What? B-but I lent that to Moritz!

Wendla: I know. *lowers it* It's a suicide note. *reads* "I'll be an angel…"

(Duncan Sheik snatches the script away from her.)

Duncan Sheik: Preposterous. We will not be held liable for this… childish prank…

Ilse: *spots something* No… *picks up a flower*

Steven Sater (nervously): Yes, that's a grand idea, we'll have a private funeral. Completely private.

Ducnan Sheik: Yeah. No press.

Ilse (softly): These were my flowers…

Wendla: No, they're my roses! *grabs the bunch*

Ilse: Idiot! Those aren't roses!

Melchior: Of course they are. They're red!

Ilse (softly): They weren't before I gave them to Moritz.

(Silence as realization strike them. Simultaneously, Martha, Ilse, and Melchior all start bawling.)

Duncan Sheik (grumbling): Whose idea was it to cast all teenagers?

Steven Sater: Yours.

Wendla: *glances around* Why is everyone crying?

Melchior (sobbing): Because Moritz is dead!

Wendla: That's why I asked the question!

Hanschen: Oh my god, Moritz saved the show! We're bound to get better reviews without him.

Duncan Sheik: Perhaps someone would like to say a few words?

(No one speaks.)

Duncan Sheik: Didn't think so. A song, perhaps?

Hanschen: _Ding dong, the bitch is dead…_

Wendla: Hey! Not yet!

Georg (trying): _Dearly beloved, we gather here to…_

Duncan Sheik (interrupting): Okay, well, if we're done, I'm going to go brief Blake. *dashes away*

Ilse (sobbing uncontrollably): H-how was I supposed to know he was going to shoot himself?

Melchior (icily): The gun, perhaps.

Ilse: I figured he'd be too incompetent.

Steven Sater: He must have been. *glares at Melchior* _No one _commits suicide on my turf! There's got to be another interpretation.

Melchior: I thought you said there was no further room for interpretation!

(Steven Sater glares back. Nervously, Ernst breaks the silence.)

Ernst: M-maybe we should have a parade and all drop flowers in the grave? And th-then we could all line up like pretty maids all in a row.

Hanschen: Ernst, that's stupid. *grins* Let's do it!

Steven Sater (suspiciously): What about you, Melchior? *glares* Any last words?

(Melchior can't take his eyes off the coffin. Sensing this scene is going to be less humorous, the cast quiets down. Even Hanschen grabs one of Moritz's flowers. Melchior turns his gaze to Moritz's father, who is sobbing uncontrollably in shame.)

Herr Stiefel: That boy was no son of mine… from now on, I'm being Melchior's father!

(For the first time, Melchior's glad he's being sent to a reformatory. He opens up the coffin to find his friend's body. Softly, he starts to sing of the actor everyone tried so hard to forget and now are doomed to remember.)

Melchior:

You're told he died,

You're soothed and then

You see the list again.

Are they going to find another like him?

Can't help the urge to watch, to diss,

To scold him once again.

Now our show's demise;

Never whole again.

Melchior and Cast:

A sad show cast, a sad show cast,

Mourning, mourning for the fool

That stopped a show.

Melchior:

All things he'll ever do are right ahead,

Since he went and blew a

Bullet through his head.

It's all so sad.

We'll mope in woe.

Melchior and Cast:

Shows.

Melchior:

Your blocks were such a fad,

Now sadder days are always spent.

How you've blown your brains and

Your chance, your head.

And all of this dying, it's like it all was planned.

You just let him die.

Make a fad out of him.

Melchior and Cast:

A sad show cast, a sad show cast,

Mourning, mourning for the fool

That stopped a show.

(By now, almost everyone has dropped a rose in the grave. Even Hanschen looks regretful, though that may be his dismay to have to part with the rose. They sit in a line in front of the stage, waiting for Melchior to finish his soliloquy that everyone can hear anyway.)

Melchior:

All fiends he ever dissed are right ahead.

All the flings he'd wanna

Get out of his head.

Oh, how this lad had moped all show.

All she's he never kissed are right ahead.

All the fears that Ilse

Bickered through and said.

Still, the smash hit, that he'll always own.

No dough.

Melchior and Cast:

No dough.

No dough.

A sad show cast, a sad show cast,

Mourning, mourning for the fool

That stopped a show.

(Only Melchior is left with his rose, standing over the grave.)

Melchior:

And he watches as a ghost, stage left, behind.

He watches as a ghost, stage left, behind.

He watches as a ghost, stage left, behind.

Whoa…

(The rose slips through his fingers as Melchior walks away and the stagehands slam the coffin shut forever. The rose's thorn gives Moritz a paper cut. Upon the smell of blood…)

Moritz: *jolting up* Claustrophobia! I must be in hell! *sees the blood* Oh my god, I'm dead! *dead faint*

**

* * *

So is he dead? Still very ambiguous. Reviews influence my inspiration! I know the song's bit dismal, but the real one is so beautiful, I couldn't make it happy/humorous. Next week's chapter might be a little late because I'll be on vacation, but I'll try to get it up (and written) as soon as possible. Reviews are golden; the next chapter is… colorful.**


	17. Show Business Sucks

**Disclaimer: **In my dreams, very literally.

**Notes: **There are a few *coughs* colorful metaphors in here. It's so funny, because in the world beyond the computer, my friends bribe me to try to get me swear (doesn't work, needless to say). Yeah, so writing this is really OOC for me. No F-bomb anywhere, that one's a bit too much for me. This was actually really fun to write, for some reason. It's the first scene I'm actually satisfied with in a while. The window part may seem random, but in Wedekind's script, there's a whole debate about opening windows before Melchior is lead in just to prove how much they truly don't care about Moritz or Melchior and are only concerned with their own comfort. I liked it, so I stole it, with modifications obviously.

Also, I know there's a Forbidden Broadway version of this song on the CD, "Rude Awakening," but I was only able to listen to it a few times several months ago until it was removed from Myspace. If anyone knows how to listen/get to the song without having to purchase the entire CD, _please _tell me, because if I remember correctly, it's an awesome song! (Not as awesome as mine, of course, or so I like to convince myself.)

**Scene Four: Show Business Sucks  
**

(Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater tip-toe onstage, dressed in the schoolmaster costumes. Both have been sporting the tacky graduation caps since their leap from off-Broadway to Broadway, and in addition, Duncan Sheik is equipped with the conductor's baton.)

Duncan Sheik (grumbling): Why do I have to wear the dress?

Steven Sater: Because otherwise we wouldn't include drag queens in the show, making our imminent comparison to RENT seem flat.

Duncan Sheik: …yeah, but why do _I _have to wear the dress?

Steven Sater: Hush! We have bigger problems to work out!

Duncan Sheik: Yeah, like whether we should open a window in here or not.

Steven Sater: Precisely. Seeing as the cast is particularly hot, I propose we do.

Duncan Sheik: Might I remind you, we don't have any windows.

Steven Sater: Damn.

Duncan Sheik: I, however, am still in favor of opening a window.

Steven Sater: Let us make it our biggest priority to install windows.

Duncan Sheik: Barred windows, if I might add, to prevent actors from jumping, despite our constant encouragement of such…

Ilse: *pops her head onstage* Um, guys, you do know that Moritz killed himself, right?

Duncan Sheik (startled): Gah! I mean, yes, of course we… no!

Ilse (interpreting "no" as "know"): Oh. Good! Well, Melchi's waiting for you to fire him. *dashes off*

Steven Sater: *turns to Duncan* That corpse was _John_?

Duncan Sheik: My dear Steven, our prayers have been answered! Not only have we rid ourselves of that pathetic bed-head case, but also his rebellious cuddle monkey!

Ernst (offstage): What's a cuddle monkey?

Hanschen (offstage): *mysteriously appears at his side, whistling*

Steven Sater:… so our goal is to kill off all our stars?

Duncan Sheik: Well, how else do you recommend we earn a reputation on Broadway? By singing songs and dancing around?

Steven Sater: Generally, yes.

Duncan Sheik: *slaps him* If we don't provide a plausible excuse for Whatshisname's unfortunate downfall- and I do mean that in the most literal sense- the company will sue us for illegal misuse of their set!

Steven Sater: Preposterous. That would imply we had anything to do with poor Morris Stevens' terrible_ accident_.

Duncan Sheik: We must stop at nothing to ensure our scandalous reputation is safe, and in the safe, in the form of something green!

Steven Sater ("huh?"): So, revival of Wicked?

Duncan Sheik (insanely): MONEY, MONEY, MONEY! *has a mental breakdown*

Steven Sater: Well, I guess Mamma Mia! works too…

Duncan Sheik: *clears throat* This is worse than war, Steven. This is SHOW BUSINESS!

Steven Sater: So, naturally, there must be bloopers…

Duncan Sheik: *snaps fingers* Fetch Jonathan. *rubs hands together* Time to heat things up…

(Mistaking Duncan's reference, the cast gathers onstage eagerly, in hopes of practicing for the sex scene. Duncan Sheik, however, was referring to firing Melchior.)

Steven Sater: Hey, Jonathan, get your butt over here!

Hanschen: *pats the spot in front of him* In the literal sense, please!

Melchior (sulking): Why should I?

Steven Sater: Duncan mentioned something about… a raise… on the show ladder…

Melchior: *whimpers* B-but money reminds me of M-Moritz!

Steven Sater: Well, this will remind you even more of him!

(He drags Melchior onstage and pulls out several sheets of paper, including Melchior's script and contract.)

Steven Sater: *clears throat* It would seem, young man, that all roads end in you.

Melchior: What the hell does that even mean?

Duncan Sheik: That we're tired of your "freeways."

Melchior: Well, we know you _love _handing out tickets…

Steven Sater: SHUT UP! *because everyone is staring* You're lame.

Duncan Sheik: As one well would be, after such a tragic experience.

Melchior: And which experience would that be?

Duncan Sheik: Shut up! The death of the poor… uh…

Steven Sater (filling in): The helpless, young, um, tragic…

Duncan Sheik: Victimized, molested…

Melchior: Moritz Stiefel?

Duncan Sheik: SHUT UP! *snaps fingers* Aha! So you know what we're talking about!

Melchior: Do you even know what you're talking about?

Steven Sater: We were kinda hoping you knew…

Duncan Sheik: Silence! Anyway, I was looting- erm, I mean _investigating _his possessions, when I came across THIS!

(He gestures dramatically towards Steven, who glances around before waving innocently.)

Melchior (dubiously): You came across Steven?

Steven Sater (embarrassed): Well, yes.

Duncan Sheik (gritting): Show him the document- yes, there it is! This script, a pornographic and scandalous-

Steven Sater: *repeats practically every other word that's said* Pornographic, scandalous…

Duncan Sheik: -document which undoubtedly played into the boy's fame!

Steven Sater: Witch! Playboy!

Duncan Sheik: (to Steven) You can shut up now. (to Melchior) A fame, which he was clearly unworthy of, that bit away at his conscience.

Melchior: Dude, I didn't write the play! You did!

Steven Sater (still repeating from Duncan): Shut up, conscience!

Duncan Sheik: Yes, as you so cleverly deduced from the words written in big print on the cover, Steven and I did construct the play. Hence, we adopted the pseudonym "Frank Wedekind" and cleverly inserted our work into the 1890's…

Melchior (changing the subject): But I didn't create sex! I only taught all Moritz about it!

Steven Sater: MANKIND WAS NOT MEANT TO HAVE SEX! IT WILL KILL US ALL!

Melchior: YOU ARE BLASPHEMING!

Duncan Sheik: TURN OFF THE FREAKING CAPS LOCK!

(Everyone freezes. The cast is still watching intently, waiting for Melchi's butt.)

Ernst (whispered): Is this really what they meant by "sex scene?"

Hanschen: Man, this sucks a… well… *glances precariously towards Melchior's butt*

Duncan Sheik (regaining composure): Anyway, this incriminating document is entitled "Spring Awakening…"

Melchior: Look, I know about the "document."

Steven Sater (suspiciously): Oh, you do…

Melchior: Yeah, it created me.

Duncan Sheik: And you're sure it wasn't the other way around?

(Silence.)

Ernst (whispered): What's wrong with colorful flowers and blooming blossoms anyway?

Melchior: Yeah! Name one obscenity, and I'll go lock myself in your attic!

Hanschen: Well, there's the "colorful" part, and then there's the whole "blooming" concept *gestures towards his belly* Heck, even the flowers are rebelliously put to use in a suicide and funeral!

Melchior (muttered): Damn. I knew I hated you.

Steven Sater: Herr Gabor, you will answer with a swift, "No" or "Screw me."

Melchior: Please don't.

Duncan Sheik: Do you know whose name is on this script?

Melchior:… that's not really a yes or no question.

Duncan Sheik (furiously): WHOSE NAME?

Melchior: Your names?

Duncan Sheik: Besides ours!

Melchior: The entire cast's names?

Duncan Sheik: Besides them!

Melchior: Our sponsors' names?

Duncan Sheik: Besides… oooh, that's rebellious… *considers* We could sue _them _for providing us with the dangerous set to murder unwanted actors with…

Melchior (wide-eyed): Sir?

Duncan Sheik: Crap. He knows too much. *shouts* He knows we ruthlessly opened the trap door under the pathetic Toaster Strudel's feet in attempts to further scandalize our show! *sobs* If only we didn't know murdering actors was illegal…

Melchior:… actually, I was just going to ask if I could visit the restrooms, but if you put it that way…

Duncan Sheik: Melchior Gabor, will you be our scapegoat?

(A guitar riffs dangerously from the orchestra pit. Melchior realizes that everyone is staring at him and decides to engage in a staring contest with the far wall, since it can't possibly win.)

Steven Sater: Can you right this?

Melchior:… crap…

(Realizing his sealed fate- to be sent off to prison to provide an even more scandalous back story for the show- Melchior does the only thing he can do. That is, he pulls out his microphone.)

Melchior: Be warned, I'm armed!

Hanschen: Yeah, and you've got a hot pair of legs too!

(Shaking his head at how far he's fallen, Melchior stops using analytical metaphors that no one can understand in his song- ships? The only kind of ships fangirls care about are the Mary Sue/Melchior shippings- and starts using colorful metaphors instead.)

Melchior:

There's a moment each show

Life sucks.

What a bitch you screw

To shelf big bucks.

No dance moves, oh yeah!

Your friends are stone.

And you have to stall

With bull and moans.

Otto (spoken):

When you sing, they make you want to jump!

Because the queerest scenes are _still _to come,

Where you ask yourself: Gay? What? Hanschen? Run!

(Hanschen glares. Otto merely shrugs.)

Otto (spoken):

I'm just a shy,

Dumb, little guy they drill for fun.

Georg:

Man, it sucks that you must be rough!

Get booed, you sing to reap in bills!

Hanschen:

But you're hunk if you speak your lines!

All Three:

And for dough, you know, we'll kill.

Cast:

Yeah, life sucks, alright,

You've got stage fright.

You can kiss your horny cast good-bye.

Show business sucks!

Sure, you get big bucks

But you know you're gonna die.

Melchior (talking with his hand):

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep.

Cast (repeating):

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep.

Guy Working the Bleeper: Hired for a play from the 1890's? This is definitely a first…

Steven Sater: Herr Gabor! The question was rhetorical, but we expect an answer- NOT a rock number!

Melchior:

Start to jeer, "Ah, hell-

You're gonna die."

Gotta bundle up

Into this big cast lie.

Long enough you've been

A naughty kid.

Strong and tough, now you'll

Forget 'bout pop hits.

Duncan Sheik: Herr Gabor, you can talk now!

Cast:

Yeah, life sucks, alright,

And no spotlight.

You can kiss your horny cast good-bye.

Show business sucks!

Will you get big bucks

When you show your hot behind?

Steven Sater: Melchior Gabor, for the last time…

Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater: GIVE US SOME REASON TO FIRE YOU!

Melchior: Aw, screw it. *shouts* MACBETH!

Everyone: *gasps*

Wendla (muttered): Great, now someone's gonna die, and judging by the script, it's probably going to be me!

Cast:

Well, good luck, oh, right!

That calls for spite!

You can kiss your horny cast good-bye.

Show business sucks!

Now you're going up,

Hell, that ladder goes so high!

(Everyone stands in a straight line, like in "Seasons of Love," preparing the words to tell each other how much they love each other.)

Cast:

*take deep breaths*

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep!

(Everyone simultaneously starts dancing, even the adults, who can-can across the stage. Others seem to mistake the stage as a trampoline and start leaping up and down madly.)

Cast:

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep,

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep!

Show business sucks!

(They all end extending a finger. Unfortunately, people like Wendla and Ernst are so uneducated, they end up being literally "all thumbs." On the bright side, reviewers can now safely say Spring Awakening put two thumbs up. Out of their trances, Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater continue leading Melchior away.)

Duncan Sheik: Just so you know, we'd have let you go if you'd said no.

Melchior: *gasps* NO!

Duncan Sheik: Too late! *shoves him up ladder before leaving him unsupervised*

Melchior: Gah! I can't get down! I'm afraid of heights!

Steven Sater (shouts up): Hey, spring's over kid! No more sleeping around and awakening!

Melchior: Well, what else can I do?

Steven Sater: Have a nice FALL!

**

* * *

It's funny, how Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater just fell into the story after randomly being placed in one scene… but it'd figure that the kid actors and their adult mentors clash. I am in no way saying that Sheik and Sater are murderers, they're brilliant to have brought SA to life! Anyway, reviews are appreciated as inspiration for a scene I know several of you have been looking forward to. Did you all miss Moritz? (I know I did!)**


	18. The Perv of Poor Broadway, Close Eyes!

**Disclaimer: **"Dear Buddha, please bring me a pony and a plastic rocket... and the rights to Spring Awakening…" *shrugs* I felt like combining my quote with the great and horrible (in the Doctor Horrible sense) Joss Whedon.

**Notes: **Hanschen and Ernst. Now these are two guys that have _serious _sexuality problems. I played around with them… they played around with each other… you get the gist. Despite the easiness of exaggerating Ernst's oblivious nature and Hanschen's horniness, this scene was actually hard to write. Might be that the WOYB songs are my least favorite songs, but I'm satisfied with the result, and hopefully all Hernst fans are. I'll tell you my interpretation of the Hernst love at the end.

**Scene Five: The Perv of Poor Broadway (Close Eyes!)**

(Now that the action's over, everyone slowly exits the stage, giving Hanschen the chance to sneak up on Ernst, who is admiring the bell-ringer in the pit orchestra.)

Hanschen: *covers Ernst's eyes with his hands* BOO!

Ernst (squeaking): Rapist!

Hanschen (uncovering them): Yeah. How'd you know it was me?

Ernst (disappointed): Oh. Hanschen. It's you.

Hanschen: Well, who else would talk to you?

Ernst (dreamily): The bells talk to me. Sometimes, when it's quiet, like this-

Hanschen: How is it quiet, if the bells are ringing my ear drums out?

Ernst: I imagine myself as a priest.

Hanschen:… good thing it's never quiet.

Ernst: And I think of my rosy cheeked wife, and my library of children's books, and all our little children who will hold my hand…

Hanschen (muttered): God, I have terrible taste in men.

Ernst: What?

Hanschen: Ernst, get real. You are such a homosexual!

Ernst: I am?

Hanschen: Totally! Trust me, preaching is not the job for you.

Ernst: Then what is?

Hanschen: *grins* Prostitution.

Ernst: Oh. *frowns* They're not the same thing?

Hanschen: Yeah, good point. You see, the pious, serene face of our preacher- it's all an act, Ernst! He's not a priest!

Ernst: *gasps* What?

Hanschen: I know- he's a real liar! *grins* We call it acting. *scoots closer to Ernst* Really, there are only three ways a man can go. He can show fancy towards no one and be a suspected homosexual- like Moritz- leading to his untimely suicide. He can devote all his time to one object of affection and rock her boat- like Melchior- and get himself caught. Or he can be like me, and just sleep with everyone. *backs Ernst again a fence* Think of your future as a pail of milk. Otto drinks it, only to realize he's lactose intolerant. Georg's a vegan and only thinks of the cow it came from. But me, well, I'm crafty.

Ernst: Cr-crafty?

Hanschen: Well, there are a lot of ways to use a pail of milk. *grins* And the milk itself, whoever said it came from a cow?

Ernst: That's silly! Where would we get a goat?

Hanschen (softer): And that's why I chose you, Ernst Robel. You're so gullible, if I told you were gay, you'd ask, "Top or bottom?" *grins* I'M A PUSSYCAT! *leaps on Ernst with evil laughter*

Ernst (oblviously): Why are you laughing, Hanschen? What are you doing?

Hanschen (seductively): Whatever the hell I want.

Ernst: Oh. *considers* Okay!

Hanschen (softly):

Um, me? Not gay, but this-

Man, oh, no girl could sin like this.

Fond of the girls? Leave your closet, please.

Haven't you served the perv

Of poor Broadway?

Oh, we're gonna be booed, yet

Still you are my prostitute.

So I will abuse you.

Now let's just do as I choose.

(Without warning, Hanschen pulls Ernst by the collar into a passionate kiss.)

Melchior (shouting from ladder): Hey! I'm still up here!

Hanschen: Shut up!

Ernst (frightened): Is that God?

Hanschen: It would figure that God's an atheist… *resumes kiss*

Melchior (sulking): No wonder they put me up here- being forced to watch this _is _worse than prison! *pouts*

Ernst (pulling back): But Hanschen, isn't this… wrong?

Hanschen: No. Why?

Ernst: Oh. Okay.

Hanschen: Thirty years from now, I'll look back, and I won't remember this night at all. We're just a filler.

Ernst: But, since we're here?

Hanschen: *shrugs* Why not? *kisses Ernst passionately*

Ernst: W-wow, when I saw you here, I thought we'd only *coughs* below the waist.

Hanschen: So you want me to steal your virginity?

Ernst: Um… yeah, about that…

Hanschen (growling): Melchi…

Ernst: But Hanschen- I love you as I've only loved the male contingency of the cast!

Hanschen: Aw, screw this.

(Ernst takes it literally.)

Hanschen: No, no- Ernst, there's something you should know. *takes deep breathes* I… I…

Ernst: *waits*

Hanschen: Forgot my line!

Ernst: *rolls eyes* And so you would…

Ernst:

Oh, I'm gonna be ruined.

No- not gonna see the truth.

Hanschen and Ernst:

Oh, I'm so confused, you

Ho! Why, God, is he so cute?

(The entire cast gathers onstage, seemingly oblivious to the "lovers." Either that or they've already broken so many taboos that two guys making out is hardly scandalous. From above, Melchior shoots a paper airplane down to Ilse, who, in turn, chucks the airplane at Wendla's head.)

Wendla: OUCH! Mama, my head hurts!

Faru Bergmann: *glancing at Wendla's stomach* Hmmm, maybe you have anemia?

Cast:

Oh, you companies, sue us!

Still, we're gonna sing show tunes.

So they're slutty? Screw you!

Oh, we're gonna break taboos.

(Alas, everyone knows spotlight can't bear to stay away from Wendla for long, despite they hired both Ernst and Wendla for the same reason- to look pretty. Hanschen pushes Ernst away.)

Hanschen (nervously): Well, okay, good times, Ernst, good times!

Ernst: But Hanschen… I love you!

Hanschen: You really shouldn't.

Ernst: Oh… well, okay! *turns around and starts exiting the stage*

Hanschen: Wait, Ernst!

Ernst: *whirls around* Hey, do I know you?

Hanschen: Erm, no but… Ernst, I don't know if I love you, or if I'm even gay, but… want to keep trying until I'm sure?

Ernst: You mean… you like me?

Hanschen: Wait, I have to like you to have sex? I can't just… you know, like sex?

Ernst: *gulps* Hanschen, there's something you should probably know.

Hanschen (advancing): Don't worry, Ernst, I kinda figured you were gay.

Ernst: *more gulps* Um, I'm… straight…

Hanschen: *jaw drops* WHAT?

Ernst: Yeah, I was really nervous to tell everyone, but you unlocked something inside of me Hanschen, something…

Hanschen (still dazed): Oh well, me too! Totally unlocked… I mean, yeah, of course I'm straight. Why else would I be having onstage sex with you?

Ernst: Uh-huh.

Hanschen: Totally. *clears throat* So, still wanna have that sex?

Ernst: *shrugs* Why not?

(They resume their intimacy. Herr Sonnenstich- who mysteriously reappears after a multi-chapter absence- barges in.)

Herr Sonnenstich: PROCREATION!

Ernst: Um, well, actually, we can't procreate…

Hanschen: Want a turn?

Herr Sonnenstich: Sure! I mean, that was sarcasm! NEVER! God will condemn you to a dark reformatory in the middle of nowhere!

Hanschen: Aw, don't worry, God and I are on safe sex terms!

Ernst: Yeah, we're not gay, so it doesn't count.

Herr Sonnenstich: REFORMATORY! NOW!

Melchior: *sighs* Well, that explains the inmates. And here I thought it was schizophrenia again…

Hanschen: *shakes head* You know, adults go accusing us of blaspheming when they're the ones making deities of themselves. At least I'm straight about it.

Ernst: Yeah. Straight.

Hanschen: Mmmm…

(They lock hands and walk together offstage.)

Melchior (shouting): Is everyone just gonna leave me up here? *no answer* Damn acrophobia.

**

* * *

Thus, Melchi and Hanschen are perfect foils… Melchi sleeps with girls and says he's gay, Hanschen sleeps with guys and says he's straight. Obviously, here it's implied that both Ernst and Hanschen are merely in self-denial. In the musical, I wish they could get a happy ending, but I imagine that Hanschen leaves Ernst to live a normal life and doesn't want to look back, though he really did feel something with Ernst. Like he didn't appreciate Ernst while he had him, and in the back of the mind, he misses Ernst, but he has to let the system work for him and can't defy it. (Long sentence. Basically, he's bisexual. He doesn't have to be one or the other.) It's funny, because in Wedekind's version, I think it's implied they will be together and happy. Hanschen isn't just "so you should" with Ernst. But in this piece, at least, they get to be together, AND society can't tear them apart because both of them say they're straight. Did it work? Review and tell me! Oh, and Gideon Glick (OBC Ernst) actually is gay, not straight. Just like John Gallagher Jr. isn't suicidal, and Lea Michele isn't pregnant (or, not that we know of at least…)**


	19. Disturbing

**Disclaimer:** This is mine! Shouldn't that be enough?

**Notes: **This song was harder to parody, probably because I don't know it as well and because it switches from third to first person and such. I think "Whispering" is trying to say, "Maybe society thinks this is wrong, but how could something so wonderful be wrong?" So, I tried to make my version say, "Yeah, playing this part isn't easy, but I don't want to see it end." (I probably shouldn't be spoiling it, but I think the song's a little confusing. But I think the dialogue works, and the next chapter is looking really good right now…)

**Scene Six: Disturbing**

(Wendla is having her mother read Melchior's intimate love letter aloud, since otherwise her complaint that her mother never taught her anything would be proven wrong. Realizing Wendla is dumb enough to think these are actually her mother's words and not the letter's, Melchior reads along from above.)

Melchior: Not-Dear Wendla. Well. Society is truly contemptible. Contemptible, that is- which has nothing whatsoever to do with content, no matter how similar the words sound. *pauses*

Wendla (happily): Well, he sounds content.

Melchior: But now, I can honestly say I have the upper hand. *shrugs* Most people call me high. But being the man on top…

Wendla: See, Mama? I told you he brought me up to heaven!

Melchior: …I've learned that everything is biodegradable these days. Don't ask me how that pertains to the topic in any way whatsoever. Point is, in the end, all we have is each other. Since we obviously can't rely on anyone, that equates to no one. We build fantasy worlds on stages, but really, none of that's real, despite what the script might say.

Wendla: Did he just write himself out of existence?

Frau Bergman: *glances up* If only.

Melchior: So no one must know about that public sex we had, Wendla. *pulls out megaphone* EVERYONE HEAR THAT? NO ONE! PERIOD! EXCLAMATION POINT! END OF STORY! I'm still trying to teach myself to breathe again.

Wendla: Oh, I knew I left him breathless! *grabs and discards letter* Did you hear that, Mama? I'm in love!

Doctor Von Brausepulver (entering): Well, that explains the pregnancy…

Frau Bergman: Hush, she's just fat.

Wendla (horrified): FAT?

Frau Bergman: Aren't most Americans obese these days?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: We're German, remember?

Frau Bergman: Oh yeah…

Wendla: I'M FAT AND GERMAN?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: Don't fret dear, I have found the most ingenious cure.

Wendla (fretting): MELCHI, DOES THIS NIGHTGOWN MAKE ME LOOK FAT?

Melchior (from above): Um… no, it's not the nightgown that makes you fat.

Wendla: THIS IS YOUR FAULT!

Melchior: Well, kinda.

Doctor Von Brausepulver: Don't worry, dear, I'm a doctor, aren't I? I work with germs all the time. Well, Germans, actually. Okay, actors who pretend to be German, but how different could they be? *frowns* Of course, I'll have to do a thorough examination first. *gestures* Undress yourself.

Wendla: Huh?

Frau Bergmann: Can we list that as the cause of death on the autopsy slip?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: *puts on X-ray glasses* Well, a good American accent should cure German nationality.

Wendla: And the fat?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: A special pill for weight-loss, or whatever else I happen to be prescribing. I've used it for anemia on several occasions. *frowns* Strangely, the mortality rate is 100%, but not to worry! None of the victims have filled out a complaint form.

Frau Bergman: Can we sue you if you misdiagnose this as anemia?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: Not really. I'm only a fake doctor, remember?

Wendla (from stool): MAMA! I puked again!

Doctor Von Brausepulver: Stage fright. *glances at Frau Bergman* Can I see you?

Frau Bergman (seductively): How much of me?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: I don't date grandmas.

Frayu Bergman: WHAT?

Doctor Von Brausepulver: Your kid's knocked up, didn't you know? *glances around* Don't worry, if you want to save your reputation and poison her, here's the address. *runs offstage*

Wendla (from stool): Does anemia kick?

Frau Bergman: What have you done, Wendla?

Wendla: Uh… not a whole lot much, actually. I complained a bit here, whined a bit there… I was ignorant and hormonal everywhere…

Frau Bergman: This must be God's punishment!

Melchior: If I was God, wouldn't I have better things to do? *considers* Yeah, you're right, probably not.

Frau Bergman: You truly think you got pregnant by whining?

Wendla:… well, I kinda did. *pauses* Wait. What's pregnant?

Frau Bergman: You are going to have a child, Wendla! *pauses* Well, I probably shouldn't say that, because you're not.

Wendla: That's silly, Mama! Love makes babies! Everyone told me, "There is love in heaven," and I'm not in heaven.

Frau Bergman: Yet.

Wendla: Well, I can't be pregnant! I haven't peed on that stick thing.

Frau Bergman: Yes, I'll say you went quite beyond that.

Wendla: Mama, I only had sex! I swear, nothing else!

Frau Bergman: Sex! *slaps her* Sex is blasphemy!

Wendla (whining): Well, the dictionary told me sex only told you if you were a boy or girl!

Herr Sonnenstich (offstage):… yeah, better ban the dictionary while we're at it.

Frau Bergman: Now! *slaps Wendla* Tell me the juicy details!

Wendla: Um, well, it didn't taste much like juice…

Frau Bergman: *covers ears* No more! This will ruin your acting career!

Wendla: Idina has a baby!

Frau Bergman: Yes, and she also only pretends to die. *sighs* Well, you'll have to tell me who he is.

Wendla:… Idina's a girl.

Frau Bergman: YOU'RE A LESBIAN?

Wendla: Is that German or something?

Melchior: Bohemian.

Frau Bergman: I want to know who the father is!

Wendla: God!

Melchior: DUDE, MARY IS A VIRGIN! *pauses* And would God have built his kingdom in the sky if he was acrophobic?

Frau Bergman: It had better not be Georg Zirschnitz, or our "piano lessons" are over!

Wendla: No, it's…

Frau Bergman: Hanschen Rillow?

Hanschen (offstage): Ernst, you know, when I said the solution to everything is sleep with everyone…

Wendla: Not this time, it's…

Frau Bergman: OH GOD, WAS IT MORITZ STIEFEL? *clenches Wendla's wrist* Were you that terrible, he had to kill himself?

Wendla: No, Mama, for the last time…

Frau Bergman: Come on, there are only six boys in the entire play, it has to be one of them! *considers* I'm pretty sure Ernst's actually a girl, so that leaves… *snatches letter from Wendla and reads the signature* MELCHIOR GABOR!

Otto (offstage): *sighs* People always forget about me.

Wendla:… This anemia is making me hormonal! *sobs*

(Frau Bergman stalks away jealously. Because pregnant women do strange things, Wendla stands up and walks into the spotlight, mistaking it for moonlight. No one else reacts to her, so she wonders if she's already dead.)

Wendla:

Disturbing…

I'm a ghost in the spotlight.

Sorrow during a romance.

You are thrown

Through their sin.

Dissenting

To the role

That the schools chide.

Mumbling rudely 'bout your nude plans.

Such a hard break

In the end.

(Frau Bergman suddenly decides she wants to be Melchior's mother instead and shoves Wendla's letter at the good doctor, who has a midlife crisis and somehow becomes Melchior's father.)

Herr Gabor (at Ernst): *using lecture stick as lightsaber* I am your father, Glick!

Frau Gabor: Hermann, this is our son! *gestures up*

Melchior: *waves*

Herr Gabor (confused): Oh. Really? *glances at script* You know, these sudden character changes are so confusing! *shakes head* For fifteen scenes, I've followed your lead! And now you're telling me we have a son?

Frau Gabor: Evidently!

Herr Gabor: Well, he's a rotten pomegranate!

Frau Gabor: *rolls eyes* Our son is _not _a fruit!

Herr Gabor: No, no, this is brilliant! Hear me out!

Frau Gabor: I'm tired of listening to you comparing the son you didn't know you had to vegetables!

Herr Gabor: Fruits! *clears throat* He is the poisoned apple of Eden!

Frau Gabor: He doesn't even believe in Eden! He's a Darwinist!

Herr Gabor: *gasps*

Frau Gabor: All he did was read from a script, all of which was entirely fictional, might I add. Are we so afraid our little boy will choose some school girl over us? Paying him to read a script, then firing him for doing so? Look, I already sparked the suicide of his best friend. Sending him off to a reformatory would be too unthinkably easy!

Wendla:

Such a bother, pregnancy.

I mother without warning.

Business crumples

When the players stumble.

Yet we're still encoring.

Herr Gabor: Well, it's a good thing I just met my son and wife, because otherwise, this news might break my heart. *withdraws letter* Honey, Melchior is sexually active.

Frau Gabor: *applying lipstick* Mmm-hmmm.

Herr Gabor: Frau Bergman told me herself.

Frau Gabor: Yuh-hu… _huh_? HE HAD SEX WITH FRAU BERGMAN?

Herr Gabor: Erm, well, I wouldn't put it beyond her.

Frau Gabor:… her?

Herr Gabor: That's not the point at all! Our son is going to have a son!

Frau Gabor: *has a heart attack*

Herr Gabor: Or daughter.

Frau Gabor (gasping): I knew he was gay, but you never told me he had a sex change!

Herr Gabor: What are you…? No, you idiot, _he's _not birthing the baby, he got some kid pregnant! *reads from letter* He says that the scene in the hayloft was _enlightening_, and that he longed for Paradise…

Frau Gabor: Maybe he's just being religious!

Herr Gabor (skeptical): He denies the existence of religion.

Frau Gabor: Existential, then!

Herr Gabor: Read the script yourself then! *shoves it at her*

Wendla:

History…

Little bliss, but it's true life.

Meant to bloom in all her new fans.

Celeb name,

Out and in.

Wistfully,

Shows are thrown

From her fool's sight.

Star is soon over, a new band

Comes along, each

Hopes to win.

Herr Gabor: Look inside yourself. You know it to be true!

Frau Gabor: *shakes head* That's what you get for mimicking the worst scriptwriting in the world… Look, maybe he had sex by accident!

Herr Gabor: How do you have sex by accident?

Frau Gabor: Um, by being really drunk?

Herr Gabor: He's underage.

Frau Gabor: And a really good actor? No? Well, maybe it was rape!

Herr Gabor: Exactly what I'm saying!

Melchior (from above): Seriously, why can't you just ground me? Like, in the literal sense.

Frau and Herr Gabor (glaring venomously): No.

Herr Gabor: Fanny, he probably destroyed the girl.

Melchior (from above): Hey, I wasn't that bad! *pause* And what about me? Did you ever consider how I might have traumatized myself? Maybe I need a psychiatrist!

Herr Gabor: Exactly my point. Besides, if he stays here much longer, I'm afraid he'll seduce you as well.

Frau Gabor: Whatever. I don't even like him anyway. In fact, I'm not sure we've even met.

Herr Gabor: So… reformatory?

Frau Gabor: Mmm-hmmm.

Melchior: With all due respect, sir, are you suggesting there is no further room for critical thought or interpretation?

Frau Gabor: Well, now that we're done punishing our son for engaging in sexual intercourse, wanna have sex?

Herr Gabor: Sorry. I've gotta go don a skirt for the next scene.

(Wendla's left alone, save for Melchior, who looks bored. She realizes the song isn't terribly engaging and in fact, that talking about oneself in third person is the first sign of madness.)

Wendla:

Had a sweet part, soon to cease.

She'll fade, full of the whoring.

And they'll watch me.

And I'll let them love me…

Except that's not my story.

Disturbing…

No more shows

Or the spotlight.

Humming, soon I will

Be lifeless.

Here, I'm history-

Yet again.

(The spotlight fades on her for the final significant time. She starts making a list of friends to attend her funeral before realizing the spotlight was probably her only one, and if it doesn't die with her, it wasn't any friend at all.)

Wendla: *sobs* Oh, Melchi! What do I do?

Melchior: Die?

Wendla: *sobs*

Melchior: I thought you liked being dramatic!

Wendla: *something hysterical*

Melchior: Well, I'm going to feign complete ignorance of this scene.

Wendla: But you watched the whole thing!

Melchior: Ha! Send me lab results, kid.

Wendla: But DNA testing hasn't been invented yet!

Melchior: Yes, and only I show a true comprehension of science. *grins* How convenient.

**

* * *

Only a few more chapters. *sobs* Remember to vote in the poll if you haven't, as it'll be closing soon. Also recall the review bribe I made in the intermission. If I get enough reviews, you get an extra chapter! (I'm continually wowed by the responses.) We've still got a few plot twists left, and Wendla isn't the only one who doesn't want her fame to die.**


	20. Reformatory, She Dies

**Disclaimer: **I can't even steal the songs if they were cut? Picky copyright laws.

**Notes: **I felt the reformatory scene and Wendla's death stood apart from "Those You've Known," so I split the chapters under the excuse that the Mama Who Bore Me, Touch Me, and There Once Was a Pirate reprises were once songs in the Off Broadway version, and Anna needs some more attention anyway. (Hence the really lengthy title.) If you haven't heard them, I'd suggest looking it up on YouTube. I understand why they were cut, but they all sound so haunting, I wish the Broadway version had kept them! (I extended the MWBM a little to make up for the shortness, but the dialogue's already ten pages, so it's not much.)

Since the reformatory scene uses the same actors as the schoolboys, I just used their regular names and assigned lines based on which character would mostly say it. (So, if you're wondering why Hanschen has the most lines…)

On another note, if you enjoy Spring Awakening humor, check out Spring Awakening Cast Does Grease and Spring Awakening's Defying Inequality Performance on YouTube. Be warned: they're NOT for younger audiences! Yes, someone has finally produced something dirtier than me. And probably funnier, too. Just… watch it. After reading/reviewing this, of course.

**Scene Seven: Reformatory, Watch Me, and There Once Was A Part Cut (She Dies)**

(The New York Juvenile Delinquency Center wouldn't accept "scapegoat" or "homosexual" or "for the hell of it" as an acceptable name of crime, so, with budget cuts, the reformatory had to be built onstage with spare scenery. They are actors, after all. Bored, Melchior reads one of Wendla's letters in the hopes that it'll put him to sleep.)

Melchior (reading): Dear Melchior, I only pray this letter reaches you, as the post office keeps marking my letter as "Return to Sender." I can't imagine why; I know it's the right address, since I live here too. And I know my previous letters couldn't have reached you, since otherwise you'd have written back. *glances at a heap of letters that makes him wonder if she's been sending them once a second* Anyway, just wanted to let you know your reformatory is hogging half my stage, so if you could escape soon and therefore wipe it out of existence, that would be nice. Oh, and my heart aches for you. Well, not really, but a whole lot else does. I really need to talk to you, but redundantly, let me point out that you've conveniently gotten yourself stuck in a reformatory so many inches away from me, destroying any chance of meeting until you die. So, I guess I have to share this direly important news in a mere letter: something has happened, Melchior! Something I don't understand- imagine that? Thrilling, huh?

(A group of five boys remarkably similar to Melchior's classmates enter the stage. Either they're also schizophrenic, or they all have evil twins. Yawning, Melchior shoves the letter in his pocket.)

Hanschen: All right, homo sapiens, gimme your money!

Georg: We're broke and imprisoned. Where are we supposed to get coins?

Otto: I have money!

Hanschen: Great! Everyone, steal from… Who are you again?

Otto: Um, Dieter, I think.

Georg: No, I'm Dieter, you're Reinhold!

Ernst: No, I'm Reinhold!

Otto: Well, I thought I didn't matter anyway!

Hanschen: Whatever, steal from that guy!

Otto: *gets mugged*

Hanschen: Okay! Whoever hits 'em, gets 'em.

Ernst (obliviously): Hits them with what?

Hanschen: Invisible bow and arrows shot near our hips, duh!

Georg: Wait a sec. Some guy's staring at us.

Hanschen: Who? *glances at Melchior* Oh. Gabor.

Melchior: Gabor is my father, thank you very much.

Ernst (obliviously): Jeesh, who names their kid Gabor Gabor?

Georg: Hey, Melchi, wanna play with us?

Melchior: Can't. I'm stuck up here.

(To demonstrate, he stands up on top of the pile of letters. The added weight snaps the platform from underneath him, sending him tumbling to the ground.)

Hanschen: … stuck up, maybe.

Melchior: *brushes himself off* Okay, fine, I'm open to spin the bottle.

Ernst: Sorry, that's too dirty for us.

Every Other Boy (Rocky Horror style): Shut up, Ernst!

Hanschen: *slaps him*

Melchior: How's that dirty?

Ernst: Because you suggested it.

Melchior (demanding): Are you saying I'm not well groomed?

Hanschen (ironically): Yeah, she was a good girl, wasn't she?

Ernst:… I'm not a girl.

Hanschen: *rolls eyes* And yet still perfectly straight.

Melchior: Look, Hanschen, I thought we were talking about playing Twister or something, not some girl…

Hanschen: Rupert.

Melchior: Someone named a girl that?

Hanschen: No, I'm Rupert, not Hanschen.

Melchior: Come on, I've known you for years! *considers* Then again, I never really got you…

Ernst (relieved): Thank god.

Hanschen: No, really I'm Rupert! *clears throat* Rupert Berry!

Melchior (dubiously): Witness protection really sucks these days.

Ernst: And I'm Reinhold Berry! *snuggles close to Hanschen*

Melchior: Sisters?

Hanschen and Ernst: We're close.

Melchior: Uh-huh.

Hanschen: Well, we can't all get raped by parlor maids.

Melchior: It wasn't a parlor. *pauses* So, what are you in here for?

Ernst (regretfully): Being straight.

Melchior: Oh. *frowns* I'm sorry, am I in the wrong cell?

Georg and Otto: Well, at least you guys didn't do something to get in here. We have no idea what the hell we're doing in this scene.

Robert (from nowhere): Well, _I _don't even exist in the musical version!

Hanschen (whispered): He got lost in translation. Pops in and out of fictionality.

Melchior: So _that's _where he went.

Georg: So… what do we do now?

Hanschen: *glances at Melchior with a grin* Well, since you're within reach…

Melchior ("I'm screwed or about to be… literally"): You're straight, remember?

(The boys ambush him, straddling him to the floor.)

Hanschen: Check his pockets for condoms!

Otto: *holds up letter* Can we use this?

Melchior: Hell, you can have that!

Ernst: Let's read it out loud!

Melchior (demanding): Do you want me to fall asleep?

All Boys: Yes.

Melchior: Oh. *pauses* Well, I won't!

Ernst: *removes razor*

Melchior: Oh, of all times to shave…

Otto: Who keeps giving kids these weapons?

Props Manager: *coughs*

Ernst: Just read the letter!

Hanschen: Um, why?

Georg: Well, it's from Wendla, so it's probably sexting.

Hanschen (reading aloud): Dearest Melchi, I pray every night… I write, like, a million letters… I love you more than life itself, so I'm giving up on life…blah blah blah… oooh, here's a sexy part. *clears throat* _You make me feel like a virgin, touched for the very first time…_

Melchior: *rolls eyes* Please, do I have to suffer through this twice?

(On the other side of the stage, Frau Bergman intrudes, joined by Mother Schmidt.)

Frau Bergman: I'm sorry, doctor, but do you have to go to such lengthy measures to hide your identity?

Mother Schmidt: Of course I do! I'm wanted for the murder of fifteen young, pregnant girls! Uh, coincidentally, of course. They had nothing to do with the procedure.

Frau Bergman: So… is it safe?

Mother Schmidt: Do you care? You can always adopt a dog. They have a longer lifespan than little German girls.

Frau Bergman (obliviously): They live that long?

Mother Schmidt: Besides, it's either that, or die from humiliation. Now listen closely: bring her to me while the inmates distract Melchior. Stage Right. Knock three times, and three times only. Knock four times, and she will die.

Frau Bergman:… that's some geeky sci-fi reference that no one's gonna get, right?

Mother Schmidt (muttered): Well, I like doctors…

(Back on stage left, Melchior has his eye on Ernst's razor while Ernst is dazed with Hanschen's romantic side.)

Melchior (muttered): Can't you just use me for target practice and be done with it?

Hanshcen: Shut up. *continues reading* In my bed each night, I dream it's your bed. Or that you're with me in mine, since your prison bench probably has bars surrounding it. Ah, well, we can use it as a crib for our baby.

Melchior (sputtered): Someone else slept with her?

Hanschen: Where have you been?

Georg: The pup's yours, mate!

Melchior:… but I don't own a dog!

Otto: Dude, you got her pregnant!

Melchior: I can't get her pregnant, I'm gay!

Ernst: Guess you haven't seen Bare.

Georg: Well, _no one _knows about Bare.

Hanschen: Who's getting naked?

Everyone: *glances at Melchior*

Melchior: I'd really like to see how they're going to make this a movie.

Hanschen (sulky): Well, I could get naked.

Melchior: *goes insane* Gah! Evil letter! Destroy it!

Hanschen: *grins* I knew there was a point to masturbation.

(The letter joins Hanschen's postcard.)

Melchior: *jolts up* I have an idea!

Ernst: Oh no…

Melchior: I'll ask Moritz's advice! He'll know what to do! *pockets Ernst's razor* Hey, people die in child birth, right?

Inmates: No! You can't go! You're too pretty! *jump on him*

Melchior (considering): Then again, I've got nine whole months…

(To give him time to decide, or perhaps because she has even less of a point than Otto, Anna stomps onstage and grabs the microphone.)

Anna:

I've got the floor, me!

Not her or Melchi.

Broadway, I'm gonna sing.

You paid me so bad.

So now, I'm singing

'bout all the pain. Well,

I'll sing now again

With narration.

(Meanwhile, Wendla is dragged onstage by her mother.)

Frau Bergman: Oh, God… ignore your ex-rapist, Wendla.

Wendla: Hey, that guy looks a lot like Melchi! *glances around* Mama, this looks an awful lot like the stage, are you sure this is the… where are we going again?

Frau Bergman: Funeral home, dear.

(Frau Bergman knocks on air, which somehow makes sound. She must have hit an atom. Anna starts narrating Wendla's fate to divert attention to herself.)

Anna:

Where she goes, well, most won't dare.

No good wishing; sorry, whore.

Soon, she won't sing, off she'll slip.

That young man stripped her,

Now none give her encores.

Watch, he's

So violent!

Tell me, please,

I'll be her stand in?

Mother Schmidt (appearing in rags): Take that, RENT! We do cross dress!

Frau Bergman (thankfully): Mother Schmidt!

Mother Schmidt: You knocked on air! No wonder your kid dies! *gestures* Tell me, is she an organ donor?

Wendla: *peers* Is this my grandmother, Mama?

Frau Bergman (uttered): He's a guy.

Mother Schmidt (dazed): I'll take you… *clears throat* I mean, I'll take it from here.

Wendla: Wait, what are you taking?

Mother Schmidt: The product of your previous virginity. *sighs* I always get left with the scraps.

Frau Bergman: Don't worry, dear, I'll always be with you! *hitches skirts and books it offstage*

Wendla: Mama? Why did you just turn invisible?

Mother Schmidt: *withdraws knife* Now, this won't hurt a bit… *starts dragging her offstage*

Wendla: Wait, you can't do this offstage! I can't have an offstage death! That's lame! *shrieks* YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME, SPOTLIGHT! SPOTLIGHT!

Mother Schmidt (muttered): I'll make you see a light.

(Mother Schmidt gags Wendla and unplugs the spotlight. Meanwhile, Melchior breaks free and hisses sexily, freezing the boys in their places. Then, he snaps and dashes away, leaving the dazed boys close on his trail. After plugging the spotlight in, the girls rush onstage upon Wendla's absence to steal the spotlight while they can.)

Thea (demandingly): Well, Wendla said she'd meet us here.

Martha: Sh-she said to look below.

Thea: *glancing* Guess she doesn't sleep in heaven anymore.

Ilse: *reaches in her dress* Look! A letter from Melchior!

Thea: How'd that get there?

Ilse (sheepishly): Um, fastest postal service ever?

Thea: *pouts* Yeah, and what was the shipping rate? *sulks* Melchilse sucks anyway.

Ilse (reading): Ilse, I have been running for seconds and seconds, but I'm still backstage. Now, I beg you- for the sake of our secret "more-than-friend" ship, whatever you do, don't tell Wendla I'm meeting at the graveyard at midnight. I'll be waiting there until anything supernatural happens.

Anna: I don't suppose us ghosting him is supernatural enough.

Ilse (reading): *sighs romantically* Without my hopefully dead love, Melchior Gabor.

Thea: *glares at Ilse* Guess he's been _out of touch_ for a while, eh?

Martha (sighing): He won't have to wait for Wendla.

Thea: She'll be there. *sighs* Poor Melchior.

Anna: Poor Melchior? Ha! He'll be ecstatic.

Martha: You're right. *sighs* Poor _us_.

Girls:

We wail for a little.

We're little, little, little.

He'll bail 'fore the finals,

And we'll not find him.

(They fade out of existence. Does any actor exist beyond the stage?)

**

* * *

The next chapter features both my favorite song AND character, where everything will be revealed and "all will know," as Melchi loves to point out. So did anyone catch any references? Any confusing "what's that doing there" lines? Any foreshadowing? Anything at all? Review! Oh, and did the songs work? There Once Was a Pirate is so much more beautiful than Guilty Ones, in my opinion, and connects the whole "playing pirates" memories, but Guilty Ones probably gets the point across better. (Not saying it's not beautiful; it is, just not as hauntingly so as TOWAP.)  
**


	21. Shows You've Blown

**Disclaimer: **If it were mine, it wouldn't be ending.

**Notes: **Because you were all such good reviewers, you get this chapter early! (Actually, it's because I'll be on vacation, but I do love my reviewers- shout out to Chalcedony Rivers, melchiorgabor, and Hanschen's Postcard, who all reviewed last chapter.) Like "Left Behind," this one's more sentimental. It's probably one of my favorite parodied songs, tied with "The Part I Know Well," and it's probably not coincidence they're my favorite two songs. This fic's meant so much to me, I think I feel the same way as the actors do now, not ready to let this go. I guess all good things must come to an end. (And yes, I think I just unintentionally complimented myself.) Don't worry, there's still "The Song of Purple Summer" to come, but that's more of an epilogue. This ties up the main plot pretty much. Or does it? Keep in mind that three people are singing different lines towards the end, and you may have to listen to it a few times through.

**Scene Eight: Shows You've Blown  
**

(For once, they don't need an excuse for not changing sets: the stage already is a graveyard. Melchior creeps onstage under the misconception that he's alone, away from the others, and the misconception that he's not, that certain people will be waiting for him. But he continues anyway, since he's not used to being wrong.)

Melchior: Psst… Moritz… oh, wait, you can't answer. You're dead. *pauses* Well, look at this. You spend your life running on Broadway and where are you going to wind up?

(Just as everyone begins to think it was rhetorical…)

Melchior (muttered): On cheesy television.

(He kneels before a platform, Moritz's grave. Little does he know, it doubled as the hayloft, someone else's grave.)

Melchior: Moritz, my "only a friend"… *straightens, but only in one sense* Well, those producers won't find me! Or Wendla, since she'll probably be stalking me. I- I won't let them. I'll just star in something else. You know, "the world's a stage." *pauses* But what to do with the kid? Even if I give her up for adoption, if she's inherited anything from Wendla, she's bound to find me. And probably sing annoying show tunes too.

(The curtain call buzzes.)

Melchior: No! Showtime! Wendla will be coming soon! *pauses* Look at all these imaginary graves! They're just… *sniffs the air* Is something rotting? *glances down and finds…* A fresh program! *hugs it and begins to read* Resigning, on May 18, 2008, Lea Michele as Wendla Ber-" *stops his heart* Yes! "Starting at age…" "Resigned…" Wait a sec… "With Jonathan Groff…"

(He realizes what has happened. His attempts to overthrow the producers on Broadway have finally succeeded. Instead of remaining stationary, they'll be taking the show on tour.)

Melchior: Oh. My. God that I don't believe in. Wendla too? *pauses* THEY'RE REPLACING US? No… No… No… *starts bawling*

(Critics would give him a rotten tomato for his fake crying, since it's not fake. Unnoticed amidst his sobs, the platform slowly creaks open and laboriously, out pops…)

Moritz (frantically): Oh my god, what year is it? *grips Melchior* Are you Melchi's son? I knew I felt you buried next to me!

Melchior (still sobbing): M-Moritz?

Moritz: Never mind, you've got to be Melchi. Any son of his wouldn't exist.

Melchior: I've been a fool!

Moritz: I'll say. *slaps him* My death wasn't supposed to be fictional! But you had to lock me in a bad imitation of a grave! Seriously, I was supposed to be out of here December 16th, 2007…

Melchior: Well, you had the right idea. *pulls out a razor*

Moritz (glancing at it): Melchi, I don't shave.

Melchior: Just think!

Moritz: *rolls eyes* If only…

Melchior: They'll scatter us around the Earth… and call us gods… teen idols…

Moritz: No wonder the teenage suicide rate has sky rocketed.

Melchior: Don't you see, Moritz? We're just walking advertisements! Being people to be by not being ourselves until we're just this year's Zac Efron!

Moritz: Really? I'm that hot?

Melchior: Yeah, and always a kid. You know what happens to all the winners of American Idol?

Moritz: Uh, I don't know.

Melchior: Exactly! I mean, when's the last time you heard someone say, "Adam Lambert!"

Moritz: Um, he didn't win, and plus, you just said it.

Melchior (sniffling): We're stuck here, Moritz. We're stuck here, and they're taking here away. Who will I be then? …Moritz?

(But Melchior's sentimentality has washed off on Moritz. Either that, or he doesn't want Melchior sobbing on his shoulder. Comforting his friend- or striking preemptively- he sings softly under the blue spotlight the stage crew forgot to turn off.)

Moritz:

Shows you've blown

Get lost, thank god, in iTunes.

Call back home.

The fangirls still will buy you.

Devout fans

And girls go stalk around you.

Not everything is fame,

But still you know that it has found you.

Melchior: *sniffles* You mean, we'll still exist on a CD?

Wendla: *striding onstage through the smoke- since, as proved in "Touch Me," the theatre allows smoking* Hell, if I'm gonna be a teen idol, I'm gonna be a real teen idol, not some kid who dies in a Broadway show that no one listens to anyway because only half its songs mention sex!

Melchior: *gasps* Wendla! *tries to kill himself with his razor but slips*

Wendla:

Shows with pain

May bury those within them.

Still they change

The future generation,

And the parts say

The bad close brings the spotlight.

And everyone you'll make a trend

Is defined by this harmed plight.

Moritz:

Though you show

For only a brief time,

The stalkers buy with wealth,

They're such great fans.

When you go,

They'll just wait so they'll soon find

That someday, you'll be paid to kiss.

Wendla:

When New Yorkers strip clothes,

Tomorrows, we will close.

There are shows that must go.

We'll still show.

We won't go!

(That's kind of what Melchior's afraid of, but then again, the tagline _is _you'll never forget your first love, and even if he hates it- whether Wendla or the stage- it still made him famous. He considers the fame celebrities like Moritz, Marilyn Monroe, Kurt Cobain got from killing themselves. At least they stayed famous.)

Wendla, Moritz, and Melchior:

Shows you've blown

Won't cost 'til they remind you

Of the shows

That seemed to redefine views.

They're called to

Depict the public's wrong things.

They hustle to the O'Neil place,

A long view then a closing.

(Feeling claustrophobic, Melchior lowers the razor and finally decides that living's better, because what use is a scandal if you don't leave to see it scandalize?)

Melchior:

Kind of owned,

But still, my yearly earning's

Through the charts.

And soon, I know, there's Murphy.

I'll star too,

They'll yell at my returning

As some perv with a lover in

That show on Fox Channel.

(Wendla and Moritz decide since they're dead anyway, they might as well be famous too.)

Moritz:

Will I go?

There's, oh, such glory, fine!

There's other dream parts, other soulful roles.

And I know

To trust in those who pine

That they'll pay you as your income.

Wendla:

When the score's star then goes,

The mob slows,

Depart, shows!

I'm on Glee!

I will glow

In Will's show!

Melchior:

They'll call me!

A hot fling,

Wide showings,

Some new song-based show!

You watch me,

Must watch, see,

I'm squalling!

The Groff sings!

(They all stand up.)

Melchior: So… I guess we die here after all.

Moritz (nervously): That's symbolic, right?

Wendla: *glares* Not for all of us…

Melchior (awkwardly): Er, sorry about the pregnancy thing…

Wendla: Pregnancy thing? *slaps him* Who cares about the kid? You made me fat!

Melchior: Wait, you already had the kid?

Wendla: Wouldn't I be showing already if I didn't? I mean, I've been playing the part for like, six years, that's already an abnormally long pregnancy.

Melchior: *blinks* Six years? Wait a sec, you mean this could be Gavin's kid?

Wendla: Um…

Melchior: Gavin Creel, workshop Melchior, my _boyfriend_?

Wendla: *nervous laughter* I was fourteen and innocent?

Melchior: Wonderful, the two people I'm having affairs with are having an affair with each other! *pouts* So, what do we do about the kid?

Wendla: *shrugs* Who cares? Let's just name her Rachel and send her off with two gay guys.

Hanschen and Ernst (entering): Straight!

Wendla: *rolls eyes* Whatever. *shoves baby at them and pushes them offstage*

Moritz: *peers* Would you look at that, she looks sixteen already!

Melchior: Times flies…

Wendla (dreamily): …when you're having fun, I know.

Moritz: *glances around* No wonder I don't see it flying.

Melchior:*foolishly grins* You know, I was just thinking, the three of us go way back…

Moritz: Um, I've never met this girl.

Wendla (flirtatiously): Do you want to?

Melchior: But didn't we play pirates?

Moritz: That got cut.

Melchior: Oh. *frowns* And why the hell do I want you to walk on my arm any way? That'd hurt!

(They glare, so he decides that maybe it's time to part with them before Moritz decides to go all Wedekind style and try to kill him. Though, he really wouldn't mind if Moritz asked for his hand…)

Melchior:

Some will balk at the harm,

But, hey, listen right.

Shows die, but let them stay in your heart.

Through the sins,

Through the stars,

Through the dim spotlight,

We're achieved our top dream:

We're all stars.

We walk now with them

Who wallow in fame.

And you see, we're not unknown.

Not pawns.

Not pawns.

I walked through this part.

Wendla and Moritz:

Rock on.

Melchior:

And I'll never let it go.

Wendla and Moritz:

Rock on.

Melchior:

Never again show.

Wendla and Moritz:

Rock on.

Melchior:

Not forget this show.

(Moritz and Wendla have been drifting towards opposite exits, eager to grab their pay check and make a run for it. They extend their arms toward Melchior to glance at their watches.)

Wendla: I guess I'll see you later, Melchior.

Melchior: What, you think you're gonna go to hell when you die too?

Wendla (glancing at watch): I think I'll see you very soon. *vanishes from sight*

Melchior (turning to Moritz): I knew she was a witch! Or something phonetically similar. phonetically

Moritz: Yeah, well, if no one needs me, I'm gonna go be an idiot!

Melchior: Lay off it, Moritz, anyone who wants to commit suicide in this society can't be that dumb!

Moritz: No, really- I get to be American! *dances off*

Melchior: *sighs* You know, they said this was fictional. Maybe I imagined it all.

(The lights begin to fade. His song is ending soon, and although he hated every bit of the tyrannical structure, he loved that hate like a little baby. Well, maybe not a baby.)

Melchior:

You watch me

On Fox, Glee.

I'm bawling,

But I'll sing.

I'm done. Hey,

I'll still show.

(The lights fade. With a sigh, Melchior faces the nonexistent audience one last time.)

Melchior: What now?

Ryan Murphy (entering brusquely): Hey, Jonathan…

Melchior (wiping away tears): Hey, Ryan, I…

Ryan Murphy: Yeah, whatever, just sign the contract, okay?

Melchior: Why the rush?

Ryan Murphy: *nervous laughter* Rush? What adrenaline rush? I'm not having a nervous breakdown. *grabs Melchior's collar* Sign, or I'll sing the Alexi Darling song.

Melchior: *shrugs* Fine. I've got this erasable pen right here…

Ryan Murphy: *hands him quill* Sign it in blood!

Melchior: Are you sure this is sanitary?

Ryan Murphy: That Daniel Radcliff kid does it, and people line up to see him naked.

Melchior: Yeah, but I'm not in love with a horse.

Ryan Murphy: *nervous laughter* Mares? Nope, no mares, not… *commandeers Moritz's gun*

Melchior: Well, I don't see anything terribly suspicious about all this, so why not? *signs contract* So, who's the show tune singing girlfriend I get a sex scene with?

Wendla (appearing out of the shadows): *waves seductively* Hi, Melchi…

Melchior:… crap…

Ryan Murphy: Uh, gotta go cast Kurt into existence! *runs for his life*

Melchior: *stares* There's gonna be a sequel, isn't there?

**

* * *

Will there? Ooooh, now you have to review! (Unless you don't want to, but as I said, this song means a lot to me, so I'd love it if you did. Did the ending fit?)**


	22. So Long! The Curtain, Bummer

**Disclaimer: **Were the world mine… that's an awesome movie, by the way. If you like musicals, Shakespeare, or gay romances, I'd recommend it.

**Notes: **The chapter title says it all. Well, almost. To everyone who reviewed last chapter: you are all awesome! I had, like, twenty fanfiction emails waiting for me in my inbox when I returned from my computerless vacation, which totally made my day. (Well, kind of- I think it was past midnight.)

Since I think the Broadway version of "Song of Purple Summer" is so much prettier, I used the introduction from the Broadway version- "Listen to what's in the heart of a child, etc."- and then once that finished, started the soundtrack version- "And all shall fade." So if you're unfamiliar with the Broadway version, I'd suggest you look at that first. Oh, and thanks to melchiorgabor for reminding me about Jenn.

Everything else, including the poll results, will be addressed at the end of the chapter.

**Scene Nine: So Long! The Curtain, Bummer**

(The theatre's empty, except for the actors, who evidently don't count. The last stage hand replaces the scandalous poster of Spring Awakening with a plain black and white poster of 33 Variations. He carelessly tosses the Spring Awakening poster in the trash before departing.)

Duncan Sheik: *snaps cell phone shut* Well, gotta go! I've got ghosts to write, light houses to haunt! *dashes off*

Steven Sater: *yawns* I'll just go cook up our next conspiracy… er, collaboration. *follows Sheik*

Michael Mayer: Hey, John! There's this coming of age angst musical about a youthful, suicidal guy whose girlfriend runs away. I'm directing it, and just coincidentally, I named the main character after you. Interested?

Moritz: *shrugs* Shouldn't be much of a stretch. *starts to exit with Michael*

Otto: Wait! Take me with you! *latches onto Moritz and is dragged away with them*

Jennifer Damiano: *sighs* Anyone wanna know why I go crazy from a lack of attention? *stalks off to Next to Normal to visit her mom's psychopharmacologist*

Anna: *sighs* Well, what do we do now? Cease to exist?

Georg: We did in the first place?

Hanschen: You know, as much as I pretended to hate everyone, at least people remembered me that way!

Thea (whining): Yeah, who's gonna line up to see us now?

Ilse: Come on, guys, people aren't gonna forget about us that easily! We scandalized Broadway, remember?

Martha: B-but I don't even have a Wikipedia page!

Ilse: Broadway is as high as you can get, guys. Everyone will even know _our_ names!

Hanschen: Yeah, right. People think Broadway is gay.

Ernst: *kisses Hanschen passionately* Can't imagine why.

Ilse: *folds arms* You watch me. Just watch me- I'm calling...

Thea: *jolts up* Did someone say "Melchior?"

(Ilse walks up to a random guy from the street.)

Ilse (calling): Hey, you!

Man from Street: You talkin' to me?

Ilse: 'Course I am. *grins*

Man from Street: *waits*

Ilse (demanding): Well, aren't you gonna ask for my autograph?

Man from Street: What, do I know you or something?

Ilse: *points to theatre* That's where I work, I dance.

Man from Street: Oh, yeah! They used to tie you up! *grins* I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs.

Ilse: Um, no, that's Daphne.

Man from Street: Oh. *stares at features below her face* Well, can I recognize you?

Ilse: *throws arms up* Seriously, did anyone get the moral of this?

Everyone: *blank stares*

Ilse (muttered): No wonder I have to spell it out redundantly.

Hanschen: Well, I got out of it that sex is good.

Ilse: It kills Wendla!

Hanschen: Kinda my point.

Ilse: Guys- the point is…

Everyone: *waits*

Ilse (relenting): That sex is good.

(The cast gets ready to shout, "VIVA LA VIE BOHEME!")

Ilse: BUT it can have consequences. *stares ahead* Kind of like being famous, I guess.

Melchior (offstage): Are you kidding? I'd kill to be famous.

Wendla (offstage, shouting): Do you have short term memory loss or something?

Ilse: I guess the curtain's got to fall sometime.

Everyone: *stares at curtain*

Hanschen: You know, this isn't that funny. It's actually kind of depressing.

Ernst: *hugs Hanschen* Look up "tragicomedy" when you get the chance.

(Ilse stares nostalgically at the dead spotlight.)

Ilse (muttered): Well, I still don't get why the summer has to be purple, but here goes…

Ilse:

Listen to sluts, to sweethearts, those defiled.

To sons in wigs, to dunces, dolls.

Soon you will see the beauty die.

Your tears will start to fall.

It's sadness, without it, we're lost, aloof

We'll all long for some way to feel glad.

And the child needs the play to come gleam as a teen,

And shine in shows while you last.

And all shall fade

The hours, the screams,

The world, so small, we borrow

With the parts and all the swings.

But still it plays.

The passers-by sing

And open O'Neil Theatre

At the heart of NYC.

Onstage Cast:

The girls will wait for more.

The hate-crime buyers will scorn.

Yet dare we say

There's still some stuff, just wait,

Roles in store.

And here shall close our plunders-

The curtain, bummer.

(Melchior, Moritz, and Wendla- and Otto, who's replaced Melchior as Moritz's stalker- join the cast onstage. Surprised that Moritz indeed wasn't just a figment of his imagination in the last scene, Melchior wraps his friend in a bear hug.)

Cast:

Forget the pain.

The sorrows bring

A show the swarms will follow

That no one mild will sing.

The menace stays,

We'll mourn, we'll sing!

The crowds come in, asunder,

Tickets gone before you blink!

It's worth the pain we bore.

The fame's mine, I'm a star!

We'll bear the wait

Until we're asked to play

Roles once more.

For now, we close our plunders.

Buy CDs!

So long! The curtain, bummer.

Follow, oh, our plunders!

Now we sing,

So long, the curtain! Bummer!

I'll still show. Not done here,

'Cause we're all comers.

(Everyone waits for applause before they realize there's no audience. They also realize that Melchior has disappeared with Moritz, having never released him from the hug. They glance behind the curtain.)

Melchior (caught in a bad position): Gah! Ignore the man… men… behind the curtain!

Hanschen (shouting): Cast party in my favorite bathroom!

Ilse: Wait!

(Everyone glances up from their half-stripped state.)

Hanschen: *raises eyebrow*

Ilse: The Tony Awards?

Hanschen: What, we can't do those naked?

**

* * *

Haha, fooled you! This isn't the end! There's still another chapter coming next week, where I'll also announce my next parody project. The characters bickering over recognition was just too hard to resist. (Since, after all, doesn't Spring Mistakening deserve a Tony? Well, a review at least? I'll bet some of you can guess which song I'm doing…)**


	23. There Once Was a Pirate

**Disclaimer: **I had hoped, by the end of the fic… *sighs*

**Notes: ***sobs* WHY IS THIS ENDING? (On the bright side, it's the first multi-chapter fic I've ever finished.) And why is that? Probably because of my amazing reviewers- I'd like to thank you all. (Since it is a Tony Awards chapter, awarding reviewers does pertain to the story.)

The Wendla's

(Who believed

And reviewed EVERY chapter or almost):

Agent Ilse Stiefel-Bashoff

Chalcedony Rivers

eggyouppt

melchiorgabor

Shally-wa

The Ilse's

(Who found spring every other day

And reviewed more than once):

arenkun

fir8008

Hanschen's Postcard

purplesummer928

wildnose94

The Martha's

(With only one appearance, but who made it unforgettable

Who reviewed once):

Cameron

Elsiebelse

FirstPrimeofValentine

futurebwaystar

ilovebamboo

Katey-Michelle

Lalu Gleek

Literarylolita

musicallover786

Princesshannah12345

I'm sure all of you are bright enough to read the chapter title and figure out I'm doing the (unfortunately) cut song, "There Once Was a Pirate." I decided the title was best kept unchanged at a surface level. The rest of the song was not so fortunate. *grins* It's way different than all my other songs since, for once the actors aren't telling their story (exactly). I don't know if I don't like this chapter because I actually don't like it, because it's the end, or because I'm just being picky, so I'll leave it for you to decide. And I know the verb tense changes in the song, it does that in the original song too.

I also know Taye Diggs wasn't the 2007 Tony Awards host, just one of the people who announced the nominations, but it's the closest I could come up with, because there wasn't a host, and it helped set up for my next installment anyway, which is pretty obvious, but I'll mention at the end… (If the suspense kills you, just remember: this is Spring Awakening.)

**Phony Awards: There Once Was A Pirate**

(Despite the fact Spring Awakening closed last chapter in 2008, the 2007 Tony Awards have commenced. The actors pace anxiously backstage. Or, something like that.)

Wendla: *yawns* Wow, is this the lamest competition ever, or what? I mean, what's so interesting about watching curtains?

Melchior: That's _Curtains_. You know, murder mystery?

Wendla: Ha! We've got murder, and plus, we actually raise the curtains. *beams proudly*

Georg: That's a plus?

Hanschen: To which one?

Ernst: W-well the judges might like "Being Alive" better than being "Totally F-"

Wendla: Oh, please, we're a company too. And who cares about being alive?

Moritz (timidly): She has a point. *strokes gun lovingly*

Ilse: And "The Color Purple?" Seriously? That's _my_ color? *stomps off angrily*

Melchior: Honestly, the only one that could give us a run for our money is that guy.

Anna: Um, I think that's the host.

Melchior: And he is…?

Anna: Taye Diggs?

Melchior (walking forward): _And I would know him from? _*prompts her suggestively*

Anna: Idina Menzel's husband.

Melchior: *zips back* Never mind. She scares the crap out of me.

Hanschen: Because she's the wicked witch?

Melchior (hissed): Because she's gonna force me to date her daughter. *glares at Wendla* _Again._

Wendla (to Taye): Are you my father?

Melchior: Ignore her. She's stupid. *pulls her away*

Taye Diggs: Guess I can't be her father then.

Thea: Isn't his wife a lesbian who hates him?

Melchior: Look Wendla, even assuming you were schizophrenic and vicariously your own child, you have two gay dads.

Wendla:*glances at Hanschen*

Hanschen (gritting): Ernst, when I told you men couldn't have children, I wasn't talking about procreation.

Ernst (dazed): It seems like only yesterday she was just a figment of your postcard…

Otto: *dashes onstage* I get a solo!

Thea: *rolls eyes* Yeah. If bleep counts.

(Ilse dashes back onstage. She's holding one of the CDs they presented to the voting company to judge.)

Ilse: Someone sabotaged our chances by ripping our CD!

Melchior: Chances? *folds arms* Yeah, right. You can't sabotage our chances because we don't have any!

Ilse: Well, now we don't.

Melchior: It's not chance, it's a certainty!

Ilse: No, really, listen to "The Song of Purple Summer." That's _not _the Broadway version we recorded!

CD (who evidently can talk): And all shall fade… the fans of Spring…

Ernst: Oh my god, we should tell the judges!

Announcer: And now, performing live from the Tony Awards, the cast of Spring Awakening!

(The curtain rises, and as always, they are utterly unprepared. They aren't even having sex.)

Wendla (offended): *raises hand* Excuse me? Performing dead here!

Melchior:… so, we sing "Totally F…?" Wait a sec, why can't I say f…?

Ilse: Public television. Apparently, television is fiction, so it can't reflect real life at all.

Melchior: F…

Thea (whining): Great, now the judges are going to think we forgot every other word to our own songs!

Ernst: So, what do we do now?

Wendla (smugly): Tell the judges. *clears throat* Brad, play something depressing.

(The notes to "I Believe" start up.)

Wendla: Come on, that's the happiest moment of my death!

(He changes chords to "There Once Was a Pirate," which no one recognizes.)

Judging Committee Member #1 (whispered): What is this, "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner?"

Melchior: You know, we're not representing our show very well.

Hanschen: Then we're doing a good job.

Wendla:

There once was a pirate

Who took our CD.

His rates were astounding,

They paid for piracy.

His sales soared a little.

A little, little, little.

His sales soared at little

Until we fined him.

Melchior:

There once was a freshman

Who saw our CD

Who's flattered to buy it.

Her mom disagreed.

A wail in her pillow.

Where did the stupid disc go?

She'll wail in her pillow

Until she finds it.

Wendla:

Police caught the pirate.

He's due for death row.

They dragged him to prison.

Twenty years to go.

Wendla and Girls:

In jail a little, little.

His customer's in as well.

In jail for a little,

And still, we fined him.

Melchior:

She bought, then betrayed him.

He sells, like, for free.

She rang up some sergeant

Who fought piracy.

Melchior and Boys:

She failed to dodge the guilt.

She bought, so she's a crim'nal.

No say in acquittal

Until she minds laws.

Boys:

She'll wail in her jail cell.

No radio in her jail cell.

She'll wail in her jail cell,

Until she minds us.

Girls:

In jail for a little,

A little, little.

In jail for a little,

And still we fined him.

All:

We'll jail all those lifters,

And still, we'll fine them!

Audience: *blinks*

Angry Audience Member: *slushies the cast*

Hanschen: Dude! Where do they make rotten tomato slushies?

Wendla: *sticks her tongue out* Tomato's my favorite vegetable anyway!

Melchior (muttered): 'Cause it's a fruit, idiot.

Judging Committee Member #1 (incredulously): So _that's _what they meant by scandal?

Judging Committee Member #2: You mean they're not getting naked for us? Can I rescind my vote?

Wendla: *grabs microphone* There's really no one I want to thank for…

Ilse: *shoves Wendla away* You weren't even nominated, idiot!

Moritz: *jolts up* Yes I was!

Ilse: Not you!

Moritz (sulking): Well, you said my name.

Taye Diggs: O-kay… let's cut to commercial to prolong the results as much as possible!

(The camera zooms out as Wendla jumps up and down to draw attention to herself. The rest of the cast starts to realize that they weren't actually nominated for anything and that they're surrounded by a bunch of celebrities who have no idea who any of them are anyway.)

Moritz (leaning over): Pssst, Melchi, can you autograph this?

Melchior (seductively): How should I address it?

Moritz: To the Supreme Court.

Melchior: *blinks* I must not have seen you in that play yet. *signs*

Moritz: Ha ha, it's a restraining order! *sticks tongue out and dashes away*

Hanschen (reading program): How did I get voted cutest couple?

Ernst: *snuggles closer*

Hanschen: No, Ernst. Not you. Just me.

Everyone: *coughs* Well, then.

Ernst: But, I don't understand, he can't have sex with hims…

Melchior: *hands Ernst sex essay*

Moritz: *hands Ernst gun*

Melchior: Wait a second, cutest couple? What are we, in high school?

Thea: Yeah, kinda.

Melchior: Then how come I didn't win?

Wendla (huffy): Yeah, I know! We were totally stripped of that award! *glares* Literally! _Stripped_!

Melchior: I didn't say we, I said me.

Ilse: Lighten up, Wendla. You won best costume.

Wendla: *beams* Really? Which one?

Ilse: The one for the sex scene.

Wendla (reading over her shoulder): But I don't ever wear a birthday suit!

Ernst: W-what about cutest same sex couple?

Anna: They have a same-sex couple award?

Melchior: Please, this is Broadway, not California.

Ernst: Um, actually Prop 8 was declared unconstitutional…

Melchior: *goes to Expedia* What? The only tickets they're letting me buy are to Lima, and not the Peruvian hot-and-with-hot-guys Lima either!

Wendla (absent-mindedly): Yes, thank you, first class.

Anna: Who won best hair?

Georg: Hair.

Anna: Yeah, hair.

Georg: No, Hair. With a capital H. Like Animal as opposed to animal.

Otto: I won something!

Georg: What? Where? *reads* No, you didn't.

Otto: Right here! It says, "The Tony Awards."

Georg (muttered): I really miss Brian.

Melchior: What about you, Martha? Were you recognized for anything?

Martha: I wasn't recognized.

Melchior: But it says here you won the worst hairstyle award.

Martha: Yeah, but they didn't recognize me, so they gave it to Moritz.

Melchior: Hey, Moritz! You won something!

Moritz: *hides under podium*

Taye Diggs: And now, the winner for the best leading actor in a musical is…

Melchior: *gathers his speech, which strikingly resembles his sex essay*

Taye Diggs: David Hyde Pierce from Curtains!

Melchior: *jaw drops* With all due respect, sir, are you suggesting there is no further room for critical thought or interpretation?

Wendla: The best leading actor in a musical… is a curtain?

Ilse: *pats head* Someday, you'll learn.

Wendla: That curtains are males? *widens eyes* Does that mean I'm gay? Because I hate them!

Taye Diggs: And the winner for the best featured actor in a musical is… John Gallagher Jr. as Moritz Stiefel!

Everyone: *blinks*

Moritz (dizzily): I must be dying again…

Hanschen: Are you sure this isn't the Razzies?

Wendla: *rushes onstage and snatches award* I'd love to thank my superior acting talents as…

Ilse: Wendla, you're not even a guy.

Wendla: So? I'm acting!

Moritz: *faints*

Melchior: *raises hand* Can we make the award posthumous?

**

* * *

Don't worry, reviews can be posthumous. :D**

**In case you didn't understand the song (it was a lot of story to fit into a few lines), this is what happened: a make-believe CD pirate ripped the SA CD to sell it for money. A teenage girl (whose mother confiscated her CD) needed a new copy but, since the teenager didn't have an income, she had to buy it from the pirate, and then she turned him in to make up for her crime, but because she bought from him, she was thrown in jail with him. (And still, the SA cast fined them.) Unrealistic AND off-topic, but it's called fiction for a reason.**

**Okay, enough suspense. 27 people voted in the poll, and the results came out like this:**

**Glee- 8 votes**

**Bare- 6 votes**

**RENT- 6 votes**

**Wicked- 5 votes**

**Dr. Horrible- 2 votes**

**Buffy- 0 votes**

**(Next to Normal and Hairspray, which weren't listed, also each got a PM vote.)**

**So yes, Glee did win, but not by as much as you'd think. Thus, I have decided to do a Glee parody using songs from the first season *pretends to have to cut through applause* BUT I have some ideas for a Bare parody, so I'd like to try to parody that too. (Seeing as it's pretty much all singing, that one's gonna be hard. But, then, I have to create my own storyline for Glee.) However, parodying lyrics, especially lyrics I'm not as familiar with, takes a LONG time, and I don't want to get stuck in the middle of a parody I can't finish. So, with school interfering, I probably won't release anything until next spring at the earliest. (Call it a spring awakening.) Sorry. I'd recommend putting me on AUTHOR ALERT.**

**For the options that weren't picked, there's no saying what I'll do in the future, and to make the wait shorter, I'm going to parody one or a couple of the songs from the musicals I didn't choose. (Except maybe Dr. Horrible, I'm considering that one for the future too… yeah, I like overloading myself.)**

**So… ANYONE WITH SONG REQUESTS, REVIEW AND TELL ME! I'm already working on the Glee plotline, but I can fit a few more songs in if they're requested enough. Or songs you want me to do from any other musical, listed or not, I'll take them into consideration.**

**Recap: A GLEE PARODY is coming as well as a possible BARE PARODY and ONESHOT SONG PARODIES so put me on AUTHOR ALERT when you REVIEW WITH SONG REQUESTS.**

**Okay, the notes are getting longer than the chapter, that's sad. But then, SA is a tragedy.**

Hanschen: *sobs*

Melchior: Dude, are you crying?

Hanschen (sobbing): Shut up! Crying does not make you gay!

Ernst: *snuggles closer* Not crying…

Melchior: Have you, by any chance, read my sex essay?

Moritz (pretending not to bawl): Crying makes you _gay_?

Ernst: No, it just messes up your eyeliner.

Melchior: *pats Moritz's head* Don't worry, Moritz, we can just go have a little talk with your dad about why you cry so much…

Moritz (gloomily): The spotlight's gone… Now, it's dark… so dark… so…

Melchior: DON'T DO SADNESS, MORITZ!

Moritz: _Bang!_

Martha: *sighs* All I want is just a kiss…

Ilse (in tears): Damn it! Winter wind sings and cries, not me!

Wendla (gleefully- literally): I can force myself to cry!

Everyone (Rocky Horror-style): SHUT UP, WENDLA!

**

* * *

THE END**

**All things we ever did are left behind…**

**Reread, share, alert, favorite, etc. Because shows you've known and lost still walk behind you!**


End file.
